


Who Are You?

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama/Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair are just beginning to build an intimate relationship when Jim is hit with a sniper's bullet.  The impact causes him to fall and hit his head.  The resultant amnesia leaves Jim with no memory of Blair, causing Blair to wonder if it's the injury...or something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Are You?

DISCLAIMER: Pet Fly Productions and UPN own all rights, we're just borrowing. We promise to clean them up, and put the boys away when we're done. 

WARNING: NC-17 for sex between two consenting adult men. If you're under 18, or don't like that sort of thing, you shouldn't be here. Go away. 

Note: Well, this started out to be a short story. :D When I approached Mercury with the idea last Monday (God...was it *just* last Monday?!), she said 'go for it--have fun with it'. I asked, then begged, for her to help me with it. She reminded me we're already busy with other projects, and I begged some more. She said okay, as long as it was just going to be a short story... I guess this is our version of a short story. (g) Feel free to share this with whomever you want, as long as you keep the headers on it. Comments, etc. are warmly welcome and much appreciated. Please send all comments to Car4Toy@aol.com; I will forward them to Mercury. 

## Who Are You

by M-n-M  
Copyright April 1997  


Jim rolled over in his sleep, and unconsciously gathered Blair closer. The younger man smiled fondly at his sleeping partner and snuggled into the broad chest. He was tired physically--Jim had seen to that, even if it hadn't been a busy day--but his mind was still running full tilt. Even now, three weeks into this newest aspect of their relationship, Blair had trouble believing that it wasn't just a dream that he was going to wake up from. He smiled again at the man holding him and closed his eyes. They had a busy day planned for tomorrow, following up on some leads for the latest in a string of serial thefts, and Blair wanted to be rested. Abandoning the traditional method of counting sheep, Blair began instead to count the different things he loved about Jim, and fell asleep a short time later, a smile on his face.   
  


* * *

  


There was a shrill ringing in his ear. Jim reached an arm out and thumped his hand down where he knew the alarm clock was sitting. The silence that followed was deep and satisfying, and he almost fell back asleep enjoying it. He glanced downward to see Blair's body nearly atop his, one leg thrust between his thighs. As his senses registered the different scents in the air--a combination of Blair, and the muskiness of sex from last night--Jim felt his body beginning to respond to them, and to the proximity of his guide. 

Blair rolled over sleepily, aware of a hardness poking at his hip. He cracked one eye open to see Jim smiling down at him, a seductive gleam in his eyes. He shut the eye again, and stretched invitingly, knowing his movements would catch the attention of the man he intended them for. 

They did, as evidenced by the hand that suddenly trailed down his body, stopping occasionally on its journey to tease and caress. Jim covered Blair's body with his own then, taking his mouth in a fierce kiss whose urgency belied morning languor. They exchanged long hot kisses, rubbing their bodies back and forth against each other, erections bumping and moving together. 

Jim pulled back slightly and reached for the tube of lubricant on the bed-side table. He sat back on his heels then, Blair's body exposed to his hungry gaze. Blair slowly drew his legs up, spreading them wider, showing Jim what he wanted to see. Jim growled low in his throat and quickly spread some of the jelly on his fingers. He ran those fingers down the cleft of Blair's ass, and probed at the puckered opening to his body. Blair arched up against him as one finger, then a second entered him and began stroking back and forth. 

"Oh, God, yes...oh, Jim...do me...oh, God, love, I want you...give it to me...pleaseohpleaseohplease..." Blair was raising his hips, thrusting against Jim's hand as the other man stroked his hard cock. 

"Want me, babe? You want me inside you, filling you up?" 

"Yes, oh, God, yes...Jim..." Blair gasped as Jim stroked his fingers over Blair's prostate, causing the younger man to buck in pleasure. 

Jim removed his fingers and squeezed more lube out, spreading it liberally on his cock. He pushed Blair's knees up further, and guided the head of his cock to his entrance. Blair groaned and arched his back, his body engulfing Jim's cock in one fluid motion. Jim growled again, and leaned forward to kiss Blair, pumping into him in a steady rhythm. 

Neither one lasted long. Blair stroked himself in time to Jim's thrusts, which quickly gained momentum. He felt his testicles contract, and groaned as the hot fluid spurted onto his stomach and Jim's chest. Jim gasped as Blair's body tightened around him, muscles clenching at him. He drove himself deep into Blair, filling his lover with his seed. 

They collapsed together in a heap on the bed, still joined; hearts racing and breathing wild and desperate. Jim waited until he could speak coherently again, then said quietly, "I love you, Chief. God, I love you..." and gathered Blair close to him, nose in his hair, breathing in Blair's scent. 

"I love you, Jim." Blair hugged back, knowing that Jim sometimes needed a minute to bring his senses back under control after a particularly intense interlude such as this. Quiet, gentle lovemaking was no problem for Jim's heightened senses; hot, intense fucking like this had been sometimes required a bit of "down time" as they'd come to call it...mostly just a little quiet cuddling and stroking, and an exchanging of endearments. 

After a few minutes they began stirring as realization hit that the day had begun. Jim withdrew from Blair's body, and they got up to get ready. Jim looked down at himself, then over at Blair. "Do you ever regret--you know." He gestured and gave Blair a questioning look. 

"You mean not using condoms?" Blair moved into Jim's embrace, and the other man nodded. "No, I don't. I don't plan on leaving you...or letting you leave me." Jim smiled at his partner's fierce tone, but knew what Blair was telling him. 

Jim hugged the smaller man close and whispered, "Thank you." Then he pulled away. "Dibs on the shower," he called, moving quickly toward the stairs. Blair just stood, gaping, at the sudden change in moods. He shook his head and pulled his robe on, deciding to make coffee while Jim was showering. Fortunately his lover was in a sharing mood, and left some hot water for his own shower. Blair smiled as he quickly soaped his body. Nope, this morning definitely wasn't a dream...but it would be a while before he quit feeling the urge to pinch himself. 

Jim finished dressing and began puttering in the kitchen. They weren't going to have time to fix breakfast this morning, would have to get something to eat on the way to the station. 'Gonna have to start setting the alarm a few minutes earlier,' he decided. He poured himself another cup of coffee and settled on the coffee table to lace up his shoes. "Sandburg, get a move-on! We don't want to be late for the meeting with Henderson!" Blair's reply through the bathroom door was flip, and didn't require an answer. Jim stood up and stretched, and that was when he heard the sharp (crack!) of a rifle being fired. He yelled in surprise as the bullet plowed across his head, and was dimly aware of stumbling backwards and falling. The last thing he was conscious of was Blair yelling, "JIM!", then everything went black...   
  


* * *

  


He could hear voices. Voices he should recognize. Where was he? His head hurt... No, that was too mild a word. It felt like the back had been blown away. A soft cool touch caressed his aching head, soothing away some of the hurt. He tried to lean into the touch, but couldn't seem to make his brain and body coordinate. With a frustrated moan that seemed to roar in his ears he struggled one last time to open his eyes, then gave up the struggle, letting the pain carry him away again...   
  


* * *

  


When consciousness began returning for the second time he was better prepared for it, and was actually able to make his brain work. He concentrated, proceeding slowing, giving his brain time to relay the commands. 

"He's coming around, I think." A familiar voice. Where'd he know that voice from? 

"Yeah, I think you're right. Should we call the doctor? You want to do that? Jim. Hey, hotshot. Can you hear me?" Another voice--this one not as familiar, but feeling like it should be. A warm pressure on his hand, fingers squeezing. 

This time he was determined not to let the pain take him back again...he struggled with it, and finally got his eyes to open. Focusing was something else altogether, and took him several minutes before images coalesced into a coherent picture. He raised his hand slowly to feel the bandages that were wrapped around his head. To say he had a headache was like saying the Grand Canyon was a hole in the ground--his head hurt like a sonofabitch--like no pain he'd ever experienced. 

The fuzzy images around him began taking shape, but he couldn't seem to pull anything into total focus. He wondered what had happened. He tried to ask, but found his voice wasn't working well. His "what happened" came out hoarse and raspy. He glanced around, disoriented and confused, looking for a familiar face. He recognized the tall black man standing to the right of his bed. Simon. Simon smiled reassuringly at him. He licked his lips and tried again. 

"Simon...wha...happened?" God, just three little words made his head pound. He winced with the pain. 

"Detective Ellison..." Another voice, not one he knew. Brisk, efficient...different fingers on his wrist. Dimly he was aware of someone taking his pulse...a light in his eyes. He tried to pull away from the light, and then it was gone. "Squeeze my hand, please." He tried...felt as weak as a newborn baby. "Good, good." The person switched hands, and said, "Again please. Very good." The voice moved, Jim tried to track it. He felt the other hand pick his up again, stroking gently. 

"Wha...happened?" He asked again, licking his dry lips. 

"Do you know where you are, Detective?" White coat--even fuzzy, Jim could tell that much. Doctor. "Detective?" 

"Hos...pital." 

"Right. Do you remember anything that happened before you woke up here?" The white coat was speaking again. 

Jim frowned in concentration and felt the chainsaw in his head increase in strength and volume. "S-shot me." Why? Who? The coherent part of his brain--the detective part--began immediately wondering about the answers. 

"That's right--you were shot, Jim. The impact caused you to lose your balance. You fell..." 

Jim flicked his gaze to his right, to the person speaking to him, still holding onto his hand. He pulled his hand away, uncertainty making him gruff. "Who...who are you?" It came out as more of a growl than Jim intended, but that was okay, too. 

Blair recoiled from Jim's low-pitched growl as if he'd been struck physically. There was no trust...no love...no recognition in those eyes. He cast a frantic gaze over to Simon, who was watching Jim now with concerned eyes. "I'm Blair...Jim, don't you remember me?" 

The doctor was watching with some concern as well. "You don't recognize him, Detective?" 

Jim felt *his* concern increase ten-fold. Obviously he should...but he was drawing a total blank. And that, combined with disorientation and pain was making him feel defensive. "No...I don't." He gazed pointedly at Blair, taking in the long hair and earrings. "I'm sure I'd remember if I knew you. Simon?" 

Simon's frown increased. "You sure you don't remember him, Jim?" 

"No. Why should I?" 

Blair opened his mouth, and Simon shook his head at him. Blair retreated slightly, moving to the end of the bed. "You two have been partners for over a year now." 

Jim gaped in surprise, trying to make sense of this through his muzziness and the pounding headache. "You're a *cop*?" He directed this question at Blair, but it was Simon who answered for him. 

"No, he's not a cop. He's a..." Simon broke off for a moment. This was just too unbelievable. "He's a special consultant to the department." God, that he'd be feeding that line of bull to the man who'd invented it... Somewhere, there were malicious little imps having a field day with this one. 

The doctor motioned to Blair and Simon. "Gentlemen, we need to let Detective Ellison rest a bit now. Detective, I'll be by to see you again in a little while. Try to rest some. Do you need anything for the pain, or is it tolerable?" 

Jim looked up at the three faces staring down at him in concern. 'What the hell is going on here?' "No...I'm fine for now," he lied. He didn't want medication--he wanted answers. 

"Very good. I'll be back in a moment then." The doctor ushered Blair and Simon out the door.   
  


* * *

  


"He has a low-grade amnesia." The doctor pronounced the words as if imparting some deep, dark secret. Blair scowled at him, and snorted. 

"Of course he has amnesia. *That's* obvious. When's he gonna be better, man?" 

Simon looked fairly annoyed, too. He, Blair and the doctor were standing outside Jim's room, watching an nurse hook up an IV to Jim, as well as set up a wicked looking monitor. Simon refocused his attention on their meeting. "Please, Doctor. Can't you give us some sort of time table to work with here?" 

Doctor Henricks shrugged. "Head injuries--especially when brain trauma is involved--are tricky things. He could be better in a couple of days, or it could take weeks. We've detected some swelling on the inside of his skull--where the brain impacted against the bone during the fall--so we're going to monitor that for a few days." 

"And that means...what?" Blair questioned, scowling harder at the doctor. 

"It means we don't know, and we're trying to find out. Gentlemen, please. Detective Ellison appears to be in good health otherwise...he should recover with no complications or side effects." 

"Should?" Blair rolled his eyes. "This is 1997, man--can't you even tell us something for real, without trying to snowball us?" On some deep level he couldn't quite believe he was talking to this doctor like this--but he was scared. Jim didn't know who he was. That was the most frightening feeling in the world. And the scared feeling was quickly losing out to outright panic... 

"Blair, the doctors are doing all they can for right now. Maybe you should go home and get some rest?" Simon put a comforting arm around Blair's shoulders, and discretely directed him away from the window that showed the medical procedures being carried out. Simon nodded to the doctor who turned and went back into Jim's room. 

Blair protested. "I don't want to go home...I want to be here. He..." He broke off. He'd been going to say 'he needs me', but Blair wasn't certain if that were true any longer. Jim didn't remember him. The panic came back, slamming into him with all the force of a sucker-punch to his stomach, and he gasped slightly from the pain. 'I knew it was too good to be true...I knew it...' 

Simon was studying him with sympathetic eyes. This couldn't be easy on the kid. "Go on home, Sandburg. I'll stay here with Jim for a while longer, fill him in on some of the details. You can finish the story in the morning. But there are...other details...you might want to wait on." Simon had removed his arm from Blair's shoulder, and stood looking at him, face-to-face now. 

Blair nodded morosely. He knew what Simon was saying. Jim would be surprised, wouldn't he? He'd been so sure no one knew about them... 

"The two of you wear your hearts on your sleeves, for anyone who cares to look closely," Simon told Blair, jerking his attention back to the here and now. 

"How did you...?" 

"You get this look on your face, Sandburg. I know who--and what--you're thinking of, at least in general terms. I *used* to be a detective, remember? Figuring out puzzles was my life's work. Anyway, I've had ample time to watch the two of you together, draw a few conclusions of my own. I suspected a while ago...before the two of you did, I think." Simon smiled at Blair, a gentle smile. "Now go on, get home. And for god's sake, be careful with the Explorer. I don't need to tell you how possessive the man is about his vehicles." 

"Possessive? Jim? More like obsessive..." Blair smiled--a genuine smile--for the first time all day. Simon gestured him toward the door, then turned to head back into Jim's room.   
  


* * *

  


Blair looked around the empty loft in dismay. How was he going to stay here alone? Especially knowing that Jim had no recollection of him ...of them. He sighed. 'I should clean up some--forensics made a mess in here this morning.' God, was it just this morning? It seemed like a lifetime ago. Without bothering to turn any additional lights on, Blair silently made his way upstairs, to the bed that had been theirs for three weeks...and might never be again. 

Morning light didn't make it seem any better; in fact, the bright sunlight seemed to be mocking him somehow. Blair pulled on some old jeans and a T-shirt, then put one of Jim's flannel shirts on over it. It didn't fit well--was almost ridiculously large in fact--but he needed the security of being surrounded by *something* of Jim's...something that reminded him of Jim. 

He headed downstairs, eyes surveying the mess. Dismay grew in him when he looked around, remembering his feelings of panic yesterday morning. He'd heard the rifle fire, and Jim's cry of pain--and surprise. His fingers had been trembling so badly he'd barely been able to call 911 and Simon, which was so unlike him, but it usually wasn't Jim he was calling about, either. 

Blair shook his head and began cleaning up. At least being busy would give him something to do besides dwell on what had happened. He wondered how Jim had fared the night, and what would happen today. Maybe he'd recovered some of his memories, and would greet Blair with the fire of love in his eyes, rather than the fire of uncertainty and distrust. What if he never recovered those memories? Would Jim ever come to know him like he had? Would they be able to regain the relationship they'd had--even before becoming intimately involved? In short, would Jim not only come to trust and like him again, but could he fall in love with him all over? Something about the way Jim had looked at him last night screamed 'No' in Blair's mind. 

Blair sat down heavily on the couch, staring at the coffee table. Tears welled up in his eyes, and overflowed. He brushed them away impatiently, hoping that he would be strong enough to get through whatever was coming toward him.   
  


* * *

  


Not surprisingly, Simon was sitting next to Jim's bed when Blair got to the hospital. He *was* dressed in different clothes, an indication that the staff had thrown him out at some point last night. Blair smiled. He hoped Simon had managed to get some sleep--one of them should be rested. 

Simon saw him outside the room, and got up to join him. Jim was sleeping right now anyway, and Blair needed to be brought up to date on what had been covered. 

"Let's get some coffee," was Simon's greeting to Blair. The younger man nodded, looking back through the window one last time. Jim seemed so...fragile...suddenly. Not an adjective one would normally apply to Jim Ellison, but it seemed to fit at the moment. Blair felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and turned to find Simon gazing at him, a concerned look in his eyes. "Come on, Sandburg," he said gruffly, tugging slightly. Blair nodded and allowed himself to be drawn away. 

"So, how's he doing?" Blair took a cautious sip of what the cafeteria was passing off as coffee, and set the cup down. 

"Well--the swelling in his brain has increased somewhat--he's been exhibiting some symptoms of increased inter-cranial pressure, but the doctor says it's still within 'normal parameters', whatever the hell that means. His memories--that I can verify--are all intact...except for you. Blair..." Simon broke off, and Blair closed his eyes, certain he wasn't going to like hearing what Simon was about to say, "...he has no memory of you, at all." 

Blair's eyes snapped open. "None?" he asked incredulously. "None at *all*? What about all our cases together? Lash...what about Lash?" 

Simon shook his head. "Nothing, Blair. As far as his memory is concerned, you're not in there anywhere. In those spots, in the cases, there's a faceless person. Someone he knows he'd recognize, but can't recall." 

Blair slumped over the table. "God, Simon...what am I going to do? What if he never--" He couldn't finish that thought. To say it was to make it happen. 

"You can't think like that, Blair. Jim's a strong man, like the doctor told us. He'll recover, and his memories along with him. But he's gonna need exposure to those things he doesn't remember- -in this case, you." 

"He doesn't trust me." It nearly broke Blair's heart to say it, but he knew it was true. He'd seen the look in Jim's eyes last night. 

"Maybe not yet, but after you spend the next four or five days telling him all about you, and him, and this sentinel thing...I think it'll start to sink in. Maybe help his memories return faster." Blair looked so despondent, and yet hopeful all at the same time that Simon couldn't help but think once again how alike Jim and Blair were; they didn't give their hearts or their trust easily, but when they did, they gave it completely. *He* didn't like to think of the effect it would have on Sandburg if Jim never recovered those memories. He'd talked at length with the doctor last night, and learned that sometimes some memories just never returned. Simon sighed inwardly. No way was he going to share that information just yet. "Come on, Blair. Let's go see how the man's doing." 

Blair nodded and stood up, following Simon down the hallway with apprehension tying his stomach up in knots.   
  


* * *

  


Jim was awake, and sitting up in bed when they returned. He greeted Simon warmly, and cast a puzzled glance at Blair. "Morning. Came back to visit, huh?" 

"Yeah, man. How're you doin' this morning?" Blair tried to keep a normal, cheerful tone in his voice, but wasn't sure he was hitting the mark. 

"Fine, all things considered," Jim said carefully. "Blair...right?" 

Blair nodded soundlessly, closing his eyes against the pain. He opened them when Jim spoke again. "Simon's been 'quizzing' me on my memory...but said I had to wait for you to find out about this stuff he calls enhanced senses." 

Out of habit Blair cast a furtive glance around the room, but since it was a private room, there was no one else in there. "Yeah. I'm the one who has to explain that," he murmured. Simon cleared his throat then, and both men looked at him. 

"I need to get going, get down to the station. See what we can find on the person who shot you, Jim. See you guys later." 

Blair tried a smile in Simon's direction. "'Bye, Simon." 

"See you later, Simon." Jim frowned at the thought of being left with this person he didn't know. 

The two men watched each other for a few minutes, then Blair sighed and drew his chair closer to Jim's bed. "How are you really feeling, man?" 

"My head hurts." Jim stared in shock at Blair, wondering why he'd revealed something so personal to this...stranger. No matter what Simon told him, there was nothing familiar about this kid. "What do you do?" 

"Huh? Oh, I'm a student--doctoral student," he elaborated, seeing the expression on Jim's face. "I'm working on my doctorate in anthropology...and you're my thesis subject." 

"I'm *what*?" Jim wondered if the kid could surprise him any further, and figured there was a fair chance of it. "Maybe you'd better start at the beginning. When and where did we meet? How did we start working together? What's this 'enhanced senses' shit?" Jim couldn't get the questions out fast enough. Blair sighed again. 

"Okay." He took a deep breath, and began to talk. 

Jim sat and listened, interrupting Sandburg occasionally to question him more deeply on something that caught his attention. He listened to Blair tell him about how he'd found Jim at the hospital, freaking out from senses that were suddenly hyper- active and hyper-sensitive, and totally out of control. Their second meeting, when Jim had pinned him up against a wall, threatening him with arrest. How Blair had helped him gain enough control to figure out the puzzle involving the Switchman, the bomber Jim was looking for when they met. The many times Jim had saved Blair's life--especially the time when he'd been labeled Blair's 'Blessed Protector', after saving him from Lash. The many times Blair had helped him out of a tight spot, and saved his ass. Their 'partnership', and subsequent labeling for Blair as a 'special consultant to the department'. 

"That was my idea?" Jim questioned. Sounded like a load of bull to him. 

Blair nodded. "You said I needed an official title, that 'observer' wasn't enough. So we talked about it, and you settled on that one." He sat back, and looked at Jim, who was studying him, frankly. 

Jim wasn't sure what to make of this kid. Blair had said that in their second meeting, the first 'real' one, he'd called him a 'long-haired neo-hippie freak', or something to that effect. Sounded like it fit...he looked the part. Right down to the three earrings, and the grungy clothes...wait a minute... "That's my shirt you've got on," Jim grumbled, shocked once again. "What are you doing in my house, getting my clothes?" 

Blair swallowed. He'd hoped they wouldn't get to this part until Simon had come back. Apparently the Captain was going to be detained until Blair told Jim their 'life history' together. Well, minus a few recent facts... 

"I live with you." 

"Excuse me?" The veins were standing out on Jim's forehead, and Blair got worried. That couldn't be good for him, or his injury. 

"Calm down, Jim. I've lived with you for almost a year now. My place got blown up in a gang war, and it seemed to be the solution to a lot of problems--let us have more time together to work on your control of your senses. I...sleep in your spare room downstairs." 'Or at least I did, until three weeks ago. Now I probably will again.' Blair watched Jim's face, and the older man seemed to calm down a bit. "Do you need anything? Pain meds? Water? Doctor?" 

Jim shook his head. "Maybe a nap for a while. This is really intense, since none of it's jarring anything." 

"Fine, man." Blair was only too happy to comply. He needed a break too. The atmosphere in here was stifling. "I'll come back in a couple of hours, okay?" 

"Sure, whatever," Jim waved him away, closing his eyes. 

Blair paused outside the door, eyes closed against the pain in his heart that was threatening to overwhelm him. The nurse assigned to Jim passed him on her way in to check vitals again, and gave him a sympathetic smile. "He'll be all right, Blair. Really." 

He opened his eyes. "Margie. Hi. Yeah, well...this is so weird, you know? I'm usually the one in the hospital, not Jim. But thanks." 

She nodded and continued into the room; Blair headed down the hallway.   
  


* * *

  


Blair returned to the loft, deciding he and Jim needed a few hours apart in order to sort everything out. He snorted. 'Never thought *I'd* be the one taking refuge in here,' he thought to himself. He settled down on the big bed, snuggling into Jim's pillow, allowing himself to be soothed by the smell of Jim that lingered on the pillow. Jim. His friend, partner, lover. They needed each other; Jim needed him as a guide, and he needed to guide his sentinel. Blair had come to realize some time ago that they were linked somehow--that the same genetics the pre- determined a sentinel must also pre-determine a guide for that sentinel. How else to explain how Blair had 'happened' to find Jim? That was more than coincidence, or circumstance. It was something much bigger than that. 

It was also much bigger than the quest for a thesis, and a dissertation. Although he still worked on it, and his doctorate was still his goal, some goals had shifted. His relationship with Jim--even before they'd fallen in love, or at least admitted that they had--was far more important. He'd discovered that, too, about the same time he'd realized they were linked. That had all happened when Simon had been taken prisoner by drug manufacturers in Peru...and Blair dreaded trying to tell Jim all of that. Their relationship had changed then; subtlety, but changed nonetheless. It had become more intimate, in some ways, although the actual intimacy hadn't happened for months afterwards... 

The shrill ringing of the phone startled him, and Blair realized he'd fallen asleep. He dashed down the stairs, and answered the phone, gasping for breath. "Hello?" 

"Blair? You need to get down here, right now." Simon's terse voice poured over the line. 

"God, I'm sorry, Simon...I feel asleep, man--" 

"Sandburg--shut up and listen. You need to get down here, *now*. Jim's had some complications." 

Blair stared stupidly at the phone for a minute, then said, "I'm on my way," and dashed out the door, leaving the phone hanging from it's cord.   
  


* * *

  


He rushed into the hospital, nearly overshooting Jim's room in his haste. Simon was leaning against the wall across from the room, eyes trained on the action within. 

Blair skidded to a halt. "What's happening?" 

"They're prepping him for surgery." 

"Surgery? Why? What happened?" 

"He's exhibiting symptoms of abnormally high inter-cranial pressure, Blair. He's had two seizures already, and the doctor's concerned about him falling into a coma." 

"Oh my God..." Blair felt his stomach drop. "What symptoms?" 

"Well, he'd been pretty quiet all morning about his headache, but he's been restless...and having trouble breathing." 

"He told me earlier his head hurt--but he didn't make a big deal about it, so I didn't either. Man, this really sucks." Blair stopped and took a deep breath. Center...find the center, the calm. He looked up at Simon. "So, what else?" 

"He started throwing up about an hour ago--but at first we thought it was just his dinner not settling. Until the nurse took his vital signs again--the doctor was just on his way in to check Jim out when he had the first seizure. They're gonna put what they call a 'ventricular catheter' in his brain, to drain off the excess fluid and relieve the pressure." 

"Jesus God," Blair whispered. "Is he going to be okay? Simon?" 

"He should be, Blair, if they get the pressure reduced. Oh, you need to sign some paperwork--the doctor left it at the nurses station." 

"Paperwork?" 

"Don't tell me you don't remember Jim giving you power of attorney a couple months back." 

"Yeah, so?" 

"He's not capable of signing the consent to treat form, Blair. You need to sign the papers giving the hospital permission to perform the surgery." 

"Oh, man...this is too weird, Simon." Blair started breathing faster. 

"Sandburg, don't you dare freak out on me now. Sit down...head between your knees..." Simon pushed Blair's head down, "breathe deep...slow...c'mon, Sandburg...that's it..." Simon sighed deeply. What he didn't need right now was Blair hyperventilating and passing out on him. "Okay?" 

"Yeah...yeah...I'm fine. Let go, Simon." Blair raised his head and then stood up. "Where're those papers?" 

"Come on." Simon guided him toward the nurses station. The papers were handed over to Blair, and he began reading through them. He turned when he heard the movement behind him, to find Jim being wheeled toward the elevator. 

Blair abandoned his papers to walk to Jim's side, following the gurney. They stopped at the elevator, and Blair had a moment to just take in Jim's face. Jim's eyes were closed, and his breathing was harsh and shallow. Blair picked up the hand that didn't have the IV in it, and squeezed gently, tears forming in his eyes. Fragile. That was the word that had come to mind earlier... 'I love you, James Ellison. You're going to get better, because your guide can't survive without you. We're meant to be together you and I, even if you don't remember it right now. Go, love, and be healed.' Blair squeezed the hand again and backed away as the elevator opened. 

Dr. Henricks took that moment to bring the surgeon, Dr. Walters, over to introduce him to Blair and Simon. Then the doctors left, leaving two concerned, nervous men waiting.   
  


* * *

  


Jim's surgery took just over an hour--an hour that Blair paced relentlessly. Simon had given up trying to talk to the younger man; the nervous energy that usually radiated from Sandburg was concentrated into obsessive action right now. Dr. Walters came to see them in the waiting room, and his face looked hopeful. Blair felt like this might turn out okay after all. 

"We got the catheter in him, and are draining off the fluid now. He came through the surgery with no complications, although he'll be monitored closely for the next 24 hours. We're going to keep him in ICU for a while, until the fluid pressure readings stay down consistently." 

"How long until we can see him?" Simon asked. Blair just looked stunned still, and not capable of asking pertinent questions. 

"You can go see him right now, if you want, but visiting hours are limited in ICU--you can only stay for fifteen minutes per hour, and only one visitor at a time." 

"How long until he comes out of the anesthesia?" 

"We used a local, so there's no wait involved." 

Blair found his voice then, and couldn't conceal the horror in it, "You used a *local*? For *brain* surgery?" 

Dr. Walters turned to address him directly. "In the case of surgery such as this, a local is all that's needed--the only nerve endings are in the scalp, and that's what's numbed. After that, the brain has blood vessels which have nerves to sense pain, but once the pressure is relieved, the pain is gone. And in the case of head trauma such as this, we don't like to use general anesthesia if it's not absolutely necessary--we don't like to risk the patient not coming out of it." 

Blair shivered as a cold sweat dripped down his back, wondering how close Jim had come to that. Dr. Walters watched him closely. "Are you all right, Mr. Sandburg?" 

"Mmm? Oh, yeah, I guess. Man, I gotta go see Jim...make sure he's okay. You comin', Simon?" 

"I'll be along in a minute, Blair. Go on." 

He was so pale, so quiet...so *still*. Blair stood next to Jim's bed, listening to the quiet hum of the monitors and machines that were hooked up to him, wondering how all of this had come about. It was eerie to stand here, and watch this. Was this how Jim felt when he'd been OD'd on Golden? 'I'll have to remember to ask him sometime...if he ever remembers me...' 

Blair kept silent vigil outside of Jim's room for the next 24 hours, dozing in the chair. He left only to eat once or twice, and to use the bathroom. Nothing Simon said would persuade him to leave--it was bad enough that Jim didn't remember who he was; he wasn't going to take the chance of Jim dying without seeing him there. 

Sixty hours after the accident Jim was released from ICU back to a regular ward. He still had no recollection of Blair, and a lot of what Blair had told him about them, and their time together was lost amid the confusion from his edema. Blair spent as much time as he was allowed at the hospital, working with Jim on trying to recover those lost memories. Jim no longer stared at him like he totally distrusted him, but Blair knew that the relationship they'd had before--not even counting the more intimate one--was gone. He mourned the loss silently, and dealt with it the best he could--usually crying himself into a restless sleep every night. He hated how weak this was all making him feel--and so out of control. But he didn't have any control over what Jim remembered, so it was out of his hands. 

After the pressure was released however, Jim began to make remarkable progress as far as healing went. Five days after surgery, six from the accident, Dr. Henricks decided that Jim would be able to return home in the next day or so. His inter- cranial pressure had remained well within normal ranges; vital signs were good, and best of all, the headache that had plagued him from the time he'd opened his eyes was receding. There was still some lingering pain--especially if he over did it, and tried to stay awake too long, or moved around too much--but the doctor told Jim that there would be some, just from the nature of the injuries. 

Simon came by to visit everyday, but now that Jim was stabilized and improving, he set his energies to finding the perp who'd fired on Jim to start with. 

Several of the other detectives and officers that Jim knew and worked with had been by to see Jim, speaking as familiarly to Blair as Simon had--and not fazed at all to see him there constantly. Jim remarked on it to Blair while they were eating dinner, the last night he was in the hospital. 

"The guys that have been by to see me...none of them find it strange that you're here." Jim had seemed...not concerned, but...puzzled by it. 

Blair swallowed the bite of food he'd been chewing, nodding his head as he did so. "Most of them are used to seeing us together all the time, man. There were jokes for the longest time that we were joined at the hip. Taggert particularly made that joke, he was always like so surprised if you or I showed up without the other one. Especially after I moved in with you." 

Jim nodded. He could see where those jokes came from--the kid had hardly left his side in a week. Simon had told him privately that the 24 hours that Jim was in ICU, before he really woke up and became coherent, Blair hadn't left the area. He wasn't allowed in the room that whole time, but he'd been close by regardless. Just what in the hell had this kid been to him? What was with this guide thing, anyway? He raised a forkful of whatever it was he eating, and had a sudden flash of himself holding Blair, cradling him, while Simon shouted for a medic. 

"Jim? You okay, man?" 

"Yeah...yeah." Had that been a memory flashback? "Blair--were you injured during a case we worked on?" 

Blair smirked slightly. When wasn't he? "A couple of times, yeah...why? Did you have a flashback?" 

"I'm not sure...maybe. When would I have been holding on to you, while Simon yelled for medics?" 

Blair frowned. "Well...I'm not sure here, but that might have been when I OD'd on--" 

"You do *drugs*?" Jim's voice raised in volume and intensity. 

"Calm down, Jim," Blair nearly snapped. "Of course not. Geez, man! We were trying to track down the guys who were making Golden. You remember that, don't you? You lost your vision because some of it got in your system." Blair paused, and Jim nodded. "Well, the guys sent pizza to the station laced with the stuff. I ate a piece of it...and got wacked out in a major way. I don't remember much about what happened until I woke up in the hospital, but that's what you and Simon told me." 

"Oh." Jim fell silent then, poking at his food. 

Blair pushed down the urge to shout. This was going to drive him crazy before long! More than anything he missed the constant banter that had flipped back and forth between them--even if it was usually him that was doing most of the talking. Damn. "Look, man, I'm gonna get out of here. I need to run a couple of errands, get some stuff before you come home tomorrow. You be okay?" 

"I'll be fine, Blair. You gonna clean the loft up? It must be a mess, judging from what Simon told me of the forensics sweep." 

"Yeah, I already did it..." Blair trailed off as he realized just *what* he needed to clean up--and it didn't have anything to do with forensics. Shit! "Okay, man, I'm outta here. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" 

"Yeah, whatever. 'Night." Jim gave him a half-hearted goodbye, and Blair tensed his body against the constant ache that intensified during moments like this.   
  


* * *

  


'Shit, shit, shit, shit! How could I have been so stupid! I need to get all my stuff out of Jim's room...get the place back to the pre-us look. Dammit! I should have remembered that!' Blair berated himself all the way home as he realized the one major thing he'd nearly forgotten: Remove all traces of his physical relationship with Jim. There could be nothing to indicate they were more than friends or working partners when Jim returned home tomorrow. Not until he regained those memories. 

He parked the Explorer and ran up the stairs to the loft. In a frenzy of activity he began moving stuff; all his clothes and books went back downstairs from Jim's closet to his own, and a sweep under the bed was made. He took the video tape they'd made one night, goofing around, and buried it in his sock drawer. It wasn't like they'd had total out-and-out sex in front of the video camera, but there were some moments that would destroy the notion of 'just being friends' on there. He cleaned out the cabinet in the bathroom, removing both tubes of KY jelly, along with the massage oil he'd bought Jim. Oh, shit! He jogged back up the stairs, and took the other tube of lubricant out of the nightstand drawer. What else, what else? He was forgetting something, he knew it...but he couldn't think of what it was. Oh, man...a scrap of paper floated out of Jim's side of the closet, and Blair picked it up and read words he'd written to his lover, after the first night they'd made love:   
  


> Jim
> 
> I wanted to tell you how much I love you...and how much last night meant to me. I think I fell in love with you--for different reasons--when we first met; so this is only a matter of degree. But I wanted you to know that I have fallen in love with you...and love you with all my heart and soul. I can't describe in mere words what you mean to me...what would happen to me if something happened to you...The feelings inside me are too great for words. So, even though they're simple, over-used, and often over- exaggerated, please know that I mean this: I Love You.   
>   
>  Blair   
>   
> 

His hands shook. Damn...something else to secret away, against the day when Jim might remember them, and he could bring them out again. How many notes had he written Jim? Oh, man...about a dozen or so... Blair dove into the closet, searching through Jim's pockets. 

Sometime around midnight Blair was fairly certain he'd covered everything. He lay on his bed, downstairs, arm flung across his eyes. Might as well get used to this bed again... There was still the niggling doubt at the back of his mind that he'd forgotten something...but try as he might he couldn't think of what it would be, so finally gave up. He fell into a restless sleep, dreaming of what had been.   
  


* * *

  


Blair parked the Explorer in front of the hospital, and got out to wait. He'd arrived there around 8:00am, only to find out that the doctor wouldn't be in until about 9:30 to draw up Jim's release paperwork. Blair went down to the cafeteria and had some breakfast, then hurried back upstairs to catch the 'what to do and not do while you're home' lecture. It was a long list, on both ends. Jim was on open-ended medical leave, on doctor's orders, and Blair had a feeling it was going to be a long couple of weeks, since Jim wasn't inclined to make a lot of small talk with him. 

Jim was finally discharged--all the paperwork completed and signed off on around 10:30. Blair took his prescriptions down to the pharmacy to be filled, and waited for them while Jim finished getting dressed. The younger man had sensed Jim's unease at letting him help, so had left that for the nurse. He told Jim he'd meet him out in front of the hospital, and left the room. 

The doors to the hospital slid open, and a nurse emerged, pushing a wheelchair. Jim had wanted to protest, to refuse...but a couple of steps on legs that were still wobbly convinced him to back down. Blair opened the door of the Explorer as the nurse got closer, then reached down to help Jim get up. He got him into the vehicle, and they were off--finally on their way back home.   
  


* * *

  


In the next few days, Blair's normally enthusiastic and amicable nature eroded. They young man tried to maintain his cheerful mask for Jim's sake, but the strain was making him exhausted and irritable. He was sure the older man noticed, but Jim never said anything. In fact, he didn't seem to care when Blair would leave for a few hours to get himself back together. 

Jim was making a quick recovery--physically, at least. For that, Blair was grateful. He still had no memory of Blair, though. And, sleeping in a cramped bed alone every night, Blair wondered if he ever would. That constant thought added to his flagging good nature. He longed for Jim to hold him, smooth his hair and make the pain in his heart go away. Jim always made everything better, but he was gone and Blair was back to being alone. 

Occasionally, Blair was able to forget the achy feeling in his chest that seemed so much a part of him now. Ironically, it was talking to Jim about some of their exploits that often caused Blair's old enthusiasm to return. But it was their discussions about Jim's sentinel abilities that made Blair happy. During those talks, the anthropologist slipped into lecture mode and managed to pretend everything was normal. At least until Jim would remind him that he had no idea what a guide was. Then, Blair would spiral back down into the dark, sad place he now called home. After heart-wrenching moments such as those, Blair would leave for a few hours, each needing the time away from the other. 

Blair sighed and turned his gaze from the window. It was time to stop the introspection that had become a habit. The sun was beginning to crest above the mountains and Jim would be awake soon. 

As if summoned by his thoughts, Jim came down the stairs dressed in a pair of boxers. Blair's breath caught in his throat. Jim was so beautiful. He ached to touch him. It was the sad realization that he couldn't that brought Blair back from his thoughts. He found his voice. "Hey, Jim?" 

The older man paused in front of the bathroom door. "Yeah?" 

"We've been talking about this sentinel stuff since you got back from the hospital. Are you remembering any of it?" 

Jim rolled his eyes. "Can't this wait until I've had a shower, Sandburg? Don't you have something else you could be doing instead of bothering me with this stuff so early in the morning?" 

Blair's eyes narrowed. "Bothering you?" 

Jim heaved a sigh. "Yeah, bothering me. I just wish you'd give it a rest. I've already remembered all the important stuff. This other crap can wait." 

Blair felt the chill spread through his body. His friend had remembered all the important stuff, but not Blair. 'Guess now I know that I'm not important.' Blair thought bitterly. 

"Jim," Blair called through the now closed bathroom door. "Your sentinel abilities *are* important. I need to know what you remember so that we can concentrate on rebuilding the skills that you've forgotten." 

"We'll deal with it later, Sandburg. Now, will you let me shower in peace?" Jim didn't wait for an answer and turned on the shower. He hadn't slept well at all. He'd had snatches of memory all night. Most of them involving the curly-haired man standing in his living room. Try as he might, he couldn't fit the memories in a coherent pattern. 

The water sluiced over him, warming the chill that had settled over him. Jim tried to scrub the image of a plummeting elevator from his mind...but couldn't quite lose it. 

Blair was setting the plates of eggs on the table when Jim emerged from the bathroom. 

"Breakfast is ready," Blair called as Jim went upstairs to dress. 

"Be down in a minute," came the reply. 

Blair sat down and tucked his jean clad legs under him. He was done with breakfast and sipping a cup of tea when Jim sat down across from him. 

"You ate fast," Jim commented, looking at the younger man who just shrugged. "Fine, Sandburg. Let's get this over with. What is it that you want to know?" 

Blair's eyes lighted for a moment. "I was just wondering if you've recalled your sentinel experiences." 

"Oh, that." Jim waved dismissively with his fork. "I remembered all that after the talk we had in the hospital about it." 

Blair gaped at him. "You've remembered all this time?! Why didn't you tell me? We wouldn't have gone over it yesterday." 

Jim swallowed the last of his eggs. "Oh, you may have been trying to help me remember my enhanced senses, but I was trying to remember you and the part you supposedly play." 

The culmination of worry, despair and helplessness exploded from Blair and he didn't try to hide it. "That's a hell of a thing to say, Jim. You could have told me." In disgust, Blair rose from the table. Jim really didn't trust him and it hurt more than anything, but he wasn't going to show Jim that. "How can I help you if you won't tell me what's going on?" 

Jim raised an eyebrow. 'That sounds familiar,' he thought. 

"Listen, I just remembered that I have some things to do on campus today." Blair didn't wait for Jim's reply and grabbed his jacket. He paused, softening, none of this was Jim's fault. "Will you be okay by yourself?" 

Jim looked at the young man before him. He was a puzzle. One moment he's angry and upset because Jim wouldn't be straight with him and in the next breath, he was asking if Jim would be okay. If Jim had learned anything about this anthropologist it was that he was a complex individual. Jim had the feeling that this was something that he was supposed to know already. He answered Blair's question with one of his own. "Sandburg, did you have an accident in an elevator?" 

Blair frowned at the non sequitur. "No, Jim. I didn't have an accident in an elevator." He opened the door. 

Jim frowned. Was his memory confusing itself with nightmares? Indeed, that's what it was--a nightmare. He could have sworn that Blair had been in an elevator as it fell with no control. "Are you sure?" 

Blair sighed, exasperatedly. He was getting tired of the 'remember when' game. He needed to be alone. "Jim, some idiot thought it would be nice to hold a bunch of people hostage in an elevator that he kept dropping out of control. He added the bomb to make it more interesting. Does that answer your question?" 

Jim's brow furrowed, trying to grasp the elusive memory. "Someone tried to kill you?" 

"Yeah, Jim. No big deal. I really have to go. You will be okay, right?" The detective nodded. "Remember what the doctor told you and don't stress yourself out, man." 

"Okay, Sandburg. Go do what you have to do." Jim grabbed the coffee pot and poured himself some coffee. 

Blair nodded and left.   
  


* * *

  


The phone rang, startling Jim from his light doze. He picked up the receiver. "Ellison." 

"Jim," Simon's gruff voice flowed over the line. "Good news. We caught the perp who shot at you." 

Jim picked himself up off the couch and paced to the balcony. "That's great, Simon. Who was it?" 

"Dellas' half-sister," Simon replied. "She's always been a bit unstable--spent most of her teen age years in and out of therapy. When she heard you shot and killed her brother, she wanted revenge." 

Jim frowned. Dellas. It had been about a month and a half ago when he had shot the kid. 

'You can't save *everyone*, Jim.' 

Jim glanced around, sure that he'd heard Sandburg's voice and the young man was in the loft. Jim shook his head, he was alone. He suspected that another memory had resurfaced, but it was gone. 

"Jim? Jim? Are you okay?" Simon's voice interrupted his thoughts. 

"Yeah, Simon. You need me to come down to the station and fill out a report?" 

"No, Jim. I'll bring it over in the morning. It's getting late and I'm beat. Besides, the doc said that you weren't to drive for a couple of more days yet. You need to stay home and rest." Simon answered him. 

Jim grimaced. He was getting tired of all these rules that the doctor had imposed on him. It was bad enough that he was on sick leave until the doctor released him back to work, but Jim wasn't supposed to do any driving for another week. "Simon, I feel better. I can handle it." 

"Jim, you stay put and that's an order." Simon said, sternly. "Where's Sandburg? Let me talk to him." 

Jim rolled his eyes. "The kid went to the university. I don't know when he'll be back." 

"Fine," Simon sighed. "Just do what the doctor tells you, okay?" 

"All right, Simon. I'll see you tomorrow." Jim severed the connection. 

The detective glanced at his watch. It was nearly six o'clock. He knew he could drive down to the station, fill out the paperwork, maybe get a chance to talk to the girl who had shot at him. 

In sudden decision, he grabbed his keys and jacket and headed down the stairs at a run...and stopped, panting, on the sidewalk. A wave of dizziness washed over him. 'Oh, man,' he groaned. 'Maybe I'm not really ready for this.' 

He eased himself back upstairs and was lying on the couch, a cold compress draped across his face when he heard Blair walk in. 

"Jim!" Gentle hands reached for the cloth on his face. "What happened?" 

"I've got a headache, Sandburg. Just leave the compress, will you?" Jim tried to push Blair's hands away from his face. 

"I want to help you, Jim." 

"I don't need your help, Sandburg!" Jim's frustration at himself aimed itself at the young man. 

There was silence and Jim felt Blair back away from him. "Sure, Jim. Whatever you say. I'll be in my room grading papers." The note of hurt in Blair's voice stayed with Jim long after the anthropologist disappeared into his room. 

Jim was disgusted with himself. He knew he shouldn't take his aggravation out on the kid, but he was such an easy target. 'It's not his fault,' Jim thought. 'You're the one who thought it would be a good idea to ignore the doctor's--and Simon's--orders.' Jim really hated this helpless feeling. 

A couple of hours later, he eased himself from the couch. His stomach had been growling for the last half an hour. Walking into the kitchen, he looked in the fridge for something simple to make. Standing on his feet was making him dizzy. 

Not finding anything, Jim glanced at the closed door across the room. After yelling at Blair, he really didn't want to ask for help. If he was going to eat, though, Jim would have to ask Blair to fix something. With determination, Jim strode over and knocked on the door. 

"Hmm...?" Jim heard the mumbled reply. "Come in." 

Jim opened the door and saw Blair sitting in the middle of his bed, papers and textbooks fanned out around him. A yellow legal pad was balanced on his knee and he was scribbling furiously. The anthropologist looked up and pushed his glasses back on his nose. 

"What's up, Jim." Blair carefully kept his voice neutral. 

Jim rubbed at his forehead. Blair noticed the movement, but controlled his natural impulse to rub the temples with his fingers. "I hate to ask you this, especially after I yelled at you, but could you fix something to eat? This headache is really bothering me and if I stand too long I get dizzy." 

Blair jumped to his feet. "Why didn't you say anything?" He grabbed Jim's elbow and led him to the sofa. "Sit down and I'll make something. Do you need to go to the hospital?" Blair asked anxiously. 

"No," Jim mumbled, leaning back against the sofa. 

"Okay," Blair headed for the kitchen. "How about pain meds? Aspirin? Tylenol?" 

"Don't need any of that, Sandburg. I'm just hungry." Jim closed his eyes. 

"I'll have soup and sandwiches made in no time, big guy. You just relax." Blair began heating the soup and toasting the bread. He grabbed the ham and cheese from the refrigerator. 

Minutes later, Jim was munching happily on a double decker ham sandwich and sipping at the hot tomato soup. Blair sat across from him, watching him eat, the remaining half of his sandwich forgotten. 

"You going to eat that?" Jim indicated Blair's sandwich. 

Blair smiled and pushed it toward the other man. It was gone in minutes. 

Jim pushed back from the table with a contented sigh and it warmed Blair's heart. 

"Sandburg, that was delicious." 

"Thanks, Jim. How are you feeling?" 

"I'm better now that I've eaten." Jim eyed his roommate as Blair rose and cleared the table. 

"Blair?" 

Blair turned and looked at him. "Yeah?" 

"I'm sorry about earlier today. I was angry at myself." The admission was a hard one to make, but Jim needed to do it. 

Blair nodded. "I know, Jim. Don't worry about it. Why don't you get some sleep?" 

"Good idea. Night." Jim was relieved that Blair didn't make a big deal of his behavior. It was a bit puzzling that Blair knew what was going on, but Jim didn't have the energy to question it. 

He was halfway up the stairs when he remembered. "Forgot to tell you, Sandburg. Simon called earlier to tell me that they caught the perp who did this to me." 

Blair stepped out of the kitchen. "Really? That's great, man. Who was it?" 

Jim replied, "Dellas' half-sister. A revenge thing." 

Blair smirked slightly. "Yeah--like a lot of your cases." The younger man paused then, looking up at him. "You tried to go down to the station, didn't you?" 

Jim smiled in slight embarrassment. "Yeah...how did you know that?" 

Blair offered his own smile and he said softly. "I know you better than you think. Night, Jim. Let me know if you need anything." 

*I know you better than you think...* The words haunted Jim as he laid in his bed. He was still pondering the puzzling statement when he drifted into an uneasy, dream-filled sleep. 

Jim rose late the next morning. He found Blair's note propped up against a plate of biscuits in the middle of the kitchen table. The detective buttered a biscuit and poured himself some coffee. He opened the note and began to read.   
  


> Jim--
> 
> I had to go back to the university. I'll be there most of the day. If you need anything, call me there (555-0622). Take it easy today, will you? Remember what the doctor told you. 
> 
> I'll see you tonight.   
>   
>  Blair   
>   
> 

Jim took another sip of his coffee and fingered the paper. It flashed through his mind that he had held notes from Blair in his hands on a number of occasions. But, again, his mind wouldn't cooperate and Jim decided not to push it. It was probably his imagination, anyway. Jim left the table and went to dress. Simon would be there shortly.   
  


* * *

  


The door of the loft opened and Blair breezed in, carrying a grocery sack. He grinned as he saw Jim looking in the refrigerator. 

"Hey, Jim," Blair said happily as he sat the bag on the counter. 

Jim looked up. "Hello, Blair. How was your day at school?" he asked, politely. 

"Oh, great, man. The lecture was a real hit." Blair started removing noodles and packages of meat from the sack. 

Jim frowned slightly, watching him. "What's all that?" He gestured to the items Blair had spread out on the table. 

"Thought I'd make your favorite to celebrate the arrest of the person who shot you." 

"You're making beef stroganoff?" Jim asked in disbelief. 

Blair nodded. 

"How do you know that's my favorite?" 

Blair looked up from the meat he was cutting, his face falling. "I know a lot of things about you, Jim." Blair spoke quietly, trying not to blush. He resumed cutting the meat. "I've made it for you before and you seemed to like it. Don't you remember?" 

"No," Jim shook his head. 

Blair shrugged. "It'll come back to you." 

"If you say so," Jim muttered. 

Blair looked up at him, a hint of sadness touching the eyes that had been shining, but Jim had turned to the fridge again. "Jim, do you mind setting the water to boil for the egg noodles?" 

Jim grabbed a bottle of beer and shut the fridge. "I can do that, Blair." 

They worked in a strained silence. Long gone was the banter and discussion that usually accompanied the making of dinner. The loving looks, the stolen kisses, and the soft caresses had also disappeared. These thoughts flashed through Blair's mind as they sat down to dinner. He poked his food with his fork and made a half-hearted attempt to eat. The noodles barely squeezed through his tightening throat. 

"Hey, Sandburg," Jim finally looked across the table to the bent head. "This is pretty good," he said in surprise. 

Blair glanced at Jim's plate. The stroganoff was almost gone. He managed a small smile. "Glad you liked it, Jim." 

"Aren't you going to eat?" Jim asked as he gestured to Blair's full plate. 

"Yeah," the younger man replied with forced enthusiasm. He started to shovel food into his mouth and tried not to gag. 

Jim looked thoughtful as he finished dinner. "Can I ask you a question, Blair?" 

Blair paused, a fork full of meat halfway to his mouth. He nodded. 

"I take it you cook most of the time?" 

Blair chewed his meat. "Uh-huh," he answered. 

"What else do you do around here?" 

Blair nearly choked on his food and had to gulp down some tea. "What do you mean?" He asked, cautiously. 

Jim shrugged. "I was just curious. Do you buy groceries, too?" 

"I buy them sometimes. Just depends." 

Jim nodded. "I guess that's okay. How much do you pay for rent?" 

Blair pushed his plate away, all pretense of eating abandoned. He didn't like the way this conversation was going. "Jim, I don't pay rent." 

Jim frowned. "You don't pay rent? What about utilities?" 

Blair bit his lip, the tears he'd been choking down along with his food threatened to topple his composure. Quietly, he replied, "I don't pay those, either." 

"Don't you contribute anything at all? How long have you been living here again?" Jim looked at the younger man, incredulously. 

'Oh, God,' thought Blair. His worst fears were being realized. Two weeks ago he'd been living a dream. One bullet and a crack to the head, and his life had turned into an ugly nightmare. All of his self-doubts he'd had as the beginning of their relationship resurfaced with a vengeance. 

He colored when he remembered that Jim had asked him a question. "I've been living here for almost a year. Since my place blew up. Remember me telling you that?" 

Jim nodded, still frowning. "Yeah. I just can't believe you haven't been carrying your weight around here." 

Blair froze. 'Carrying my weight?' He thought, anger threading through his despair. He opened his mouth to retort and stopped. What was he supposed to tell Jim? He'd never paid rent. He remembered mentioning it to Jim at the very beginning but Jim had waved him off, explaining that Blair didn't get paid as an observer. Blair helped him with the job. Jim would help him with a place to live. 

Blair sighed, his anger forgotten. He rose from his chair and began clearing the table. "Look, Jim," the young man said in a tired voice. "Why don't you figure out what I need to pay you and let me know." 

Jim was staring at him, noting the drawn, pale face. "No, Sandburg. That's okay. If I didn't charge you rent before there must have been a reason. Forget about it." 

'If only I could,' thought Blair, bitterly. 'Then there would be two of us with no memory and I'd feel a whole lot better.' He should have known his happiness wouldn't last. He was so very tired all of a sudden. 

He pushed his hair from his face. "No, Jim. It's about time I started paying rent. Can't freeload anymore." Blair attempted a joke and failed. 

Jim considered him for a moment. "You have a point, Sandburg." With those words, the knife twisted in Blair's heart. 

"I'll think about it," Jim continued. 

Blair nodded, not trusting his voice. He had to get out of there. The conversation was just too much. Leaving Jim sitting there, he walked to his room and filled his backpack with a change of clothes. He wasn't sure if he was coming home tonight. 

'Home,' Blair thought, coming out of his room. 'That's a laugh.' 

Jim raised an eyebrow as he saw Blair with his backpack over his shoulder. 

"I'm going out for awhile," Blair announced. "See you later." 

"Where--" Jim started to ask, but the young man had already left.   
  


* * *

  


While he watched the news later that night, Jim glanced repeatedly at the door. The frown he had unconsciously worn all evening deepened. It had been several hours since Sandburg had left. 

The detective had initially been relieved at the respite. He'd been hoping for a peaceful and relaxing evening. In the two weeks since his return from the hospital, Jim had felt like a prisoner in his own home. Unfortunately, there was nothing peaceful about the evening. Jim was aware that he was noticeably tense--if the ache in his jaw was any indication. He also knew the reason--Blair's absence. What the detective didn't know was why. If only he could remember, dammit! 

Blair was a complete stranger to him. One that was likable enough, but so much different than himself. Jim still couldn't believe he was friends let alone roommates with someone like Sandburg. 

The kid was a live wire of electricity, although Jim suspected that Sandburg had been trying to tune down the voltage. Jim still sensed the barely restrained energy. And, in an unguarded moment, Blair would let it slip. Just last week, Blair had perched on the arm of the sofa and talked excitedly about Jim's control of pain. The anthropologist had been both surprised and relieved that Jim had made it through the surgery with only the requisite local anesthetic. 

"Why?" Jim had questioned. "It was no big deal." 

"But it was, man," Blair had replied. "Because of your heightened senses, your pain receptors are extra sensitive. Where pain medication might work up to four hours on anyone else it might only work for an hour on you." Blair gestured faster as his speech picked up speed. "Same with the anesthesia. I was really worried that you'd cut right through it--compensate for it--and feel the pain even more intensely." 

Jim had frowned. "Sandburg, I don't know where you're going with this. You make it sound as if I've passed some sort of test." 

"You have, Jim. You've been having trouble controlling pain. We even had to establish a focus--a dial--so that you could adjust the level of pain. Don't you remember?" 

"Look, Blair. These damned senses are mine. I've learned to deal with them. I remember how to control them even if I don't remember you. And, frankly, I don't see how you could have helped me when you've never experienced them yourself." 

The young man had flinched as if Jim had physically hit him. 

'And maybe I have,' Jim thought, knowing instantly that his comment was below the belt. He watched Blair slowly deflate like a popped balloon as he rose from the couch. 

Through tight lips set in a face drained of color, Blair replied quietly, "I don't know if you'll even choose to remember, Jim, but I have helped you. I'll continue to help you as long as you need it." 

Blair had walked into his room then, leaving Jim wondering why he had deliberately caused the young man's eyes to fill with pain. 

Jim was jolted from his memory by the slamming of a car door. 'No,' Jim thought, 'that's not him.' 

The detective flipped the channels on the television absently. He couldn't concentrate. Sandburg kept invading his thoughts. Images of car accidents and muggings flashed before his eyes. Jim clicked off the television and, with a sigh, rose to his feet. Why was he even worried? What his roommate did on his own time was none of Jim's business. The Sentinel walked upstairs to bed. Without thought, he turned his hearing up a notch to listen for Blair's return, all the while telling himself that what Blair was doing was none of his concern. He turned out the lights and settled in bed to sleep. 

Three hours later, Jim was still tossing and turning. Blair's scent was all around him yet the young man was still not in the the loft. With each passing moment, Jim had subtly amplified his sense of hearing, listening for Blair. It was an automatic reaction and one that Jim had no idea he was doing. 

The first hour, every car that drove by and every dog that barked kept the sentinel awake. Now, the buzzing of the traffic signals screamed through his head. In frustration, he yanked back the covers and got out of bed. He went downstairs and walked out onto the balcony. 

Losing his gaze in the city before him, Jim thought that his roommate could have shown some consideration. 'He should have told me where he was going. Oh, well. It's not my place to worry. He's a grown man. He can take care of himself,' Jim thought. As he scanned the city from his lofty perch, the sentinel's heart began to quicken. 'Where are you, Sandburg?' 

Miles away, Blair was doing much the same as Jim. Sitting on the hood of the Corvair, back against the windshield, Blair glanced at the twinkling lights of the city below him. 

He'd always loved this quiet little spot not so high up in the mountains. It was actually a great place to bring a date, but Blair never had. It was his solitary place. Sometimes one or two others might come up to this area overlooking the city, but that didn't matter. He was still left to his solitude. 

Blair pulled his jacket tighter around him. The early evening breeze was beginning to pick up, bringing a tinge of bitter cold. Looking around, he noticed he was the only one here. His eyes focused back on the vibrant city before him. 'Jim would really like this place,' Blair thought. He gave a wistful sigh. He had wanted to share this place with Jim and had made the plans to do so. But that was before his heart had been ripped to shreds and his soul blown to dust. There was no Jim to share his special place with. The Jim he knew now was a stranger. 'Guess I'll never bring him up here.' Blair's eyes watered with unshed tears. 'Damn it! This is so unfair. I thought I had finally found what everyone so desperately searches for their entire lives.' 

For a long time, Blair had felt like he was one of those people who watched from the stands, who was looking in from the outside. When he found Jim, all of that changed. Blair finally knew what it was like to be part of something special. He finally understood what other couples laughed about as they walked hand in hand through the park; what they talked about as they shopped together, and what the loving glances meant. He'd become an avid learner in just three short weeks and it left him wanting more. Blair sighed, bitterly. Those three weeks might as well have never existed. It was a memory for one, and all Blair wanted to do was forget. It only served to remind him that he was once again cast into the desert; alone and with no source of life to quench his need. He should have known better. Blair had been a master of relationships, knowing when to get close and when to back off. He kept them light. 'Never give your heart away. You might not get it back' had always been his motto. Words to live by and he had. At least, until he met Jim. Blair realized how foolish he'd been. Jim had his heart. 

'Too late to turn back the clock,' Blair laughed, ironically. Jim had done just that--had erased the whole past year of Blair's existence. 'Is that what you wanted, big guy? To forget I even existed? Why is it you can remember everyone else and not the person you said you loved?' 

Tears glided down the smooth planes of Blair's cheeks. Since Jim's memory loss, the doubt had nagged at him. Maybe Jim had never really been in love with him. He remembered the uncertainty that Jim had expressed about the use of condoms on the morning of the shooting. Had he been asking more, telling more then Blair had understood? "God, Jim!" Blair's anguished tone filled the air. "If you didn't want to be with me anymore, you could have told me." Blair's voice dropped to a whisper. "Instead, subconsciously, you wiped me from your existence." He rested his head against the windshield and stared at the stars that lay in an ocean of clear blue. "Will you ever remember me? Will you ever remember us? Please, Jim, please come back to me. Even Jimmy Stewart was given a second chance..." 

Blair slid off the hood and got into his car. Wiping the tears from his face, he started the engine. 'You're a long way from Bedford Falls, Blair, and you don't have a guardian angel. Of course, you don't have a Blessed Protector anymore, either.'   
  


* * *

  


Golden hues slipped through the loft windows unnoticed. 

"Dammit, Simon!" Jim shouted. "He didn't come home last night. The irresponsible, inconsiderate--I want an APB, Simon." 

"Jim, don't you think you're overreacting? According to you, you don't even know the kid." Simon pushed a bit ruthlessly. 

That gave Jim pause. "Simon, that's not the point. I expect someone living under my roof would to show me a little respect!" 

"Listen to yourself, Jim. You sound like some stodgy old parent." 

"Simon, I don't care what I sound like. Just put the APB out. I'm going to start looking for him." 

"Okay, Jim." Simon sighed. "Where are you going to start looking?" 

Jim thought it over. "The university, I guess. Isn't that where he spends most of his time?" 

Simon sighed again. He'd been doing that a lot lately these past few weeks. Sandburg spent most of his time with Jim, but the detective couldn't seem to remember that and Simon wondered if he ever would. He certainly hoped so. The captain was beginning to hate the hang dog expression Blair wore these days. Out loud he said, "That would be a good place to start." 

"I'm on it," Jim replied tersely and hung up the phone. 

Easing into the university parking lot, Jim was still pondering his conversation with Simon. The older man was right. He didn't know Sandburg so why was he pushing this? Jim shook his head. He was thinking one way, but his emotions were telling him something else. Somewhere in the deep of night, fear had blossomed and singed along his nerve endings. He'd stopped questioning it and started listening to it. Once he found Blair, he'd deal with the ramifications of his emotions. 

Easing out of the truck, he strode purposefully for the anthropology building. The campus was still very much deserted in the early morning, but the campus police had already unlocked the building. Jim practically ran to Blair's office. Reaching for the knob, he stopped short. 

How did he know where Blair's office was located? He hadn't been anywhere near it. Nevertheless, here he was. He closed his eyes and tried to build a mental picture around the anthropologist's office, hoping to jog his memory. When nothing came to him, he yanked open the door in frustration. The office was empty. No long-haired anthropologist anywhere. Jim's eyes narrowed as he took in the empty coffee cup on the desk. The scent of coffee still lingered in the air. The detective lifted the mug and felt the last vestiges of warmth seep into his fingers. Lingering warmth was also present when Jim went to examine the small couch. Blair's fragrance lay like a shroud all over the room. 

Jim pulled open his cell phone and called Simon. "He was here, Simon. In his office. It hasn't been too long since he left." 

"I know, Jim," came Simon's reply. "I've talked to him. He said he was heading back to the loft. Cancelled his class today." 

"What?! When did you talk to him?" Jim paced. 

"A few minutes ago. I was about to call you, but you beat me to it." 

"Thanks, Simon. I'm on my way." Jim snapped the phone closed and stormed back to the truck.   
  


* * *

  


Jim entered the loft. The lecture forming on his lips died when he saw Blair. 

The young man lay stretched out on the couch, an open book clasped loosely to his chest. His laptop buzzed quietly on the coffee table beside him and his pen had fallen from his hand when he had slipped into sleep. 

Jim moved closer and peered down at the sleeping anthropologist. Hesitantly, he reached down and removed Blair's reading glasses from his closed eyes. Jim then carefully lifted the book from Blair's lax hands. He sat on the edge of the sofa and contemplated his next action. His anger was bubbling below the surface, waiting to erupt. In sudden decision, he grabbed two fistfuls of Blair's shirt and yanked him forward. 

Blair's eyes flew open in surprise. He blinked and adjusted his gaze to the raging visage before him. "Huh? Jim?" 

"Where the hell have you been? You don't just walk out of here and stay gone the whole night. Didn't you learn anything about responsibility and courtesy when you were growing up?" 

Blair just stared at him. Or, rather, he stared at Jim's lips so close to his own. 

Jim continued his tirade, but Blair tuned him out. All the young man could see was the peek-a-boo tongue slipping around words, gliding past teeth and flicking against seductive lips. Blair didn't think, didn't care. He tilted his head and captured Jim's mouth with his own, effectively ending the diatribe. Blair's kiss was desperate and all-consuming, knowing that it could be his last. Jim was probably going to hate him for this, but he would not be denied. In his overpowering need to kiss Jim, Blair didn't notice that Jim was returning his kiss. At least, he didn't notice until Jim jerked abruptly away from Blair and dropped him to the sofa. Blair landed softly, his eyes wide. Jim stumbled backward to the door, his eyes never leaving Blair's face. The detective wiped savagely at his mouth with the back of his hand; horror, disgust and longing battling within him. Jim left the loft, leaving the echo of a slamming door in his wake. 

Blair didn't move. His lower lip began to tremble. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to get rid of the image of Jim wiping him from his mouth. The gesture was etched in his memory forever--the final rejection. Silent tears squeezed through tightly closed eyes. What was he going to do? He couldn't go on like this. And, if Jim's reaction was any indication, he'd never want to have anything to do with Blair again. 

'I'll stay in my office for a few days until I find an apartment.' Blair decided. He groaned. 'Let's just hope I have enough for a decent place.' Blair opened his eyes and rose to his feet. With a heavy heart, he went to pack.   
  


* * *

  


"He what?!" 

"He moved out a couple of days ago, Simon," Jim responded calmly. 

"And you let him?!" Disbelief was etched in Simon's face. 

Jim shrugged. "He's a grown man, Simon. If that's what he wants to do, I'm not going to stop him." 

"This from a man who had me issue an APB just three days ago." Simon responded sarcastically. 

Jim clenched his jaw and didn't say anything. Jim didn't want Simon to know that Blair's departure from the loft had bothered him. If he told Simon, he would have to explain it. And if he couldn't explain it to himself, then how was he supposed to explain it to Simon? 

Then there was the other thought. The one he tried to refuse, but it battled forth for recognition anyway. 'I kissed him back,' Jim thought. 'And I *liked* it. Must be my faulty memory. I like women, not men.' He ruthlessly squashed the voice in his head and tuned back in to what his captain was saying. 

"I hope you know what you're doing, Ellison." Simon crossed his arms. 

Jim frowned, not sure what Simon meant by that. "Well, sir. I'm sure this is for the best. Guess I'd better get back to work." Jim walked toward the bullpen. 

"Jim," Simon called. 

The Sentinel turned and looked at him expectantly. 

"Does that also mean that Sandburg won't be working with you anymore?" Simon caught the momentary panic that crossed Jim's face. He doubted if the detective was even aware of it. 

"That's up to him, Simon. We really haven't talked about it." 

Simon nodded. "Get back to work, Ellison." 

Jim's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Later, Captain."   
  


* * *

  


Jim rolled over, unsure of what woke him. It was morning, but barely. His alarm clock read 4:53 am... He groaned and sat up, scrubbing at his face with his hands. He'd been dreaming... dreaming about Blair. Now what in the hell did that mean? Probably that he'd been obsessing about the kid. After all, just because he moved out was no reason to come unglued--Blair was an adult, and it was nice to have the place back to himself. Wasn't it? 

Deciding there would be no more sleep this morning, Jim rummaged around in his closet for some sweats. It was too early to get dressed, and too chilly for just boxers. He pulled out the pants and top, and caught a hint of a familiar scent from the floor, on the other side. He reached in, and pulled out a flannel shirt. A blue and white plaid patterned flannel shirt. Blair's. What was it doing in his closet? Without conscious thought, Jim raised his arms and brought the shirt to his nose, breathing deeply of the scent that was trapped in the cloth. Little lightening bursts of light flashed in his mind as the scent registered with him... 

Jim made his way downstairs and sat down on the couch, still holding the shirt. He raised it to his face once again, and images began flashing through his mind...   
  


* * *

  


"Come on, Jim...man, you can't save *everyone*! Dellas was beyond reformation--you know that, if you'd just admit it to yourself." Blair leaned against the door, watching Jim. The older man was pacing the living room, restless with pent-up frustration. 

"And how do you know, Chief? Got so much experience with criminals, do you?" Jim snapped at Blair, knowing his partner was right and not wanting to admit to it. 

"Well," the voice of his guide softened a bit, both tone and volume, "lately, yeah. See, there's this guy I hang out with..." Blair trailed off, his voice taking on a teasing note. Jim looked up, eyes still full of the pain of taking another person's life, and then smiled at him. 

"Seems you know me better than I know myself these days, Chief." A gentle reprimand, aimed at himself. Blair made a face at him. 

"What's a guide for, if not to guide? C'mon, big guy, give yourself a break, okay? You hungry? I could fix us some dinner." 

"No...I'm not hungry. I want something...but I don't know what. I can't put my finger on it." Jim sighed in frustration, and raked his fingers through his hair--which he'd been wearing just a little longer on the top, lately. 

Blair smiled again, this one full of understanding and compassion. "How about some positive affirmation?" He moved a little closer to his friend. 

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Jim stood his ground, watching Blair move toward him, wondering what Blair was up to. 

"Positive affirmation--something everybody needs, man. Close your eyes." Blair grinned at him, a teasing smile. 

Jim grinned back, and closed his eyes. "Okay...affirm away." 

He was surprised, but not uncomfortably so, to feel Blair's arms come up around him, clasping him in a much needed hug. A gentle voice whispered to him, "Humans are way too alone most of the time. We're social creatures...we need to touch other people. Positive affirmation, man." The arms tightened around him briefly, then relaxed. Jim panicked slightly then, wanting to keep those arms around him. He brought his own arms up, and returned the embrace. It felt good to hold Blair like this...it felt right. He lowered his head to rest it on top of Blair's head, and they stood that way for several long moments. Blair seemed to be content to be held by him, and he was content to stay that way. Of its own volition, one of Jim's hands raised slightly and began stroking Blair's hair--he had it down today-- and it flowed over the sensitive pads of Jim's fingertips like silky cloth. Blair murmured a soft contented noise, and leaned further into Jim's embrace. Jim tightened his hold, and entwined his fingers into the soft strands of hair. He breathed in Blair's scent, filling his lungs deeply, getting dizzy on the heady aroma. It struck him then, at gut level, 'I'm in love with him. I've fallen in love with Blair.' His arms had tightened reflexively, and Blair made a quiet noise of protest, wiggling against the suddenly restrictive embrace. Jim loosened his grip, and allowed Blair to step back. His guide's eyes were wide, uncertain. "Jim? What's up, man?" 

He took a deep breath, and reached a hand out to gently stroke Blair's face. The younger man sighed and leaned into his touch. Jim reached out with his other hand then, and cupped Blair's face in between both hands. He lowered his face toward Blair's, watching his guide's eyes all the while. At the last moment, he closed his own eyes, just as he brushed his lips across Blair's in a whisper-soft kiss. Their first kiss. 

Jim pulled back slightly then, and gazed down at Blair, concerned about the younger man's reaction to his actions. Blair was looking up at him, a slightly dazed look on his face, a tender light in his eyes. 

"You kissed me," he stated, a tremulous note in his voice. 

"Yeah," Jim smiled. He smoothed the hair back from Blair's face, savoring the feel of it against his hand. "I think that's what I needed, Chief. You." 

"Oh, man--this is so...so..." Blair broke off, stammering, and Jim's smile widened. 

"Unexpected?" 

"That's a good start, yeah." 

"Are you freaked out by it? Did I just ruin everything?" Jim suddenly felt anxious--the warm glow from that gentle kiss had dissipated in the face of the possible repercussions. 

"No, and no." Blair smiled at him. "Are you gonna do it again?" 

"Do you want me to?" Jim's voice sounded hoarser than a minute ago. 

"Yes." A single word, whispered. 

Jim didn't wait for a second invitation. He drew Blair closer to him, and lowered his mouth onto his partner's. Blair's lips softened under his, and opened like a flower budding, revealing the sweetness hidden within. Jim stroked his tongue across Blair's, savoring the taste of Blair's mouth, the feel of his tongue and lips. Blair moaned, a tiny whimper of sound that only heightened Jim's desire for him. They twined their arms around each other, and gently devoured each other's mouths, their kisses gaining heat until they were forced apart by a need for air. 

Panting from his desire for his partner, and suddenly desperate to hold him tightly and show his love, Jim led Blair upstairs to his bed. They stripped each other out of their clothes, pausing between pieces to caress each other and whisper soft words of encouragement. They lay down on the bed together, face-to-face, and kissed again. It was a harder kiss, filled with want and need, tentativeness gone. Jim turned Blair onto his back, and began nipping and kissing his way downward. His partner writhed beneath him, moaning encouragement as Jim tongued flat nipples into hard, aching points; nipped along ridged ribs; kissed and licked the smooth insides of thighs. 

Jim paused for a moment when he reached Blair's throbbing erection. Shifting his eyes upward, he met Blair's fevered gaze, and heard the pleading whimpers. He turned back toward the erection, and took it into his mouth, gently licking around the head, nipping the shaft with his lips. Blair arched toward his mouth, no longer content to lay passively. "Oh God, yes! Oh, man...oh, Jim...suck me...please...yes..." 

Jim raised his head to look at Blair. His lover had his head thrown back, hands clenching at the sheets. Jim lowered his head back down to Blair's erection, and began sucking. It wasn't close enough. He wanted to be inside Blair, as physically close as two people could be. He released Blair, and stretched out against him, still stroking the hard-on with his hand. Blair cried out slightly from the loss of Jim's mouth, then turned to look at Jim, a questioning look in his eyes. 

"I want you, Blair. I want to make love to you...be inside you. Will you let me?" 

"Oh God...I want you too, Jim." Blair stroked a finger across Jim's lips, then inserted that finger into Jim's mouth when he opened it. 

"I need some help here, Chief...I'm not really sure--" 

"You need to stretch me out a little bit...here," Blair drew one of Jim's hands up to his mouth, and sucked on the fingers, making them slick. "Okay...put your finger in me...Ah! Oh, yeah, like that..." Blair arched his back as Jim's first finger found his entrance, and began pushing in. Soon, all three fingers were in him, and Blair was pushing himself against them, making whimpering noises that were music to Jim's ears. He eased his fingers out of his lover's body, and then hesitated. 

"I don't have any protection, Chief." He held his body in place over Blair's. 

"We...don't have to...use any," Blair panted below him. 

"Are you sure? I mean--" Jim hung back, not sure about how to proceed. 

"If you want to, Jim, I have some downstairs--I can get them..." Blair looked up at Jim, and Jim could read the trust and love shining in those fabulous eyes. 

"No--as long as you're sure." 

"I'm sure. I want you Jim--I want you bare, skin-to-skin." Blair breathed the words into Jim's sensitive ear, adding a cool stream of air with it. 

Jim felt his body throb in response, and he gritted his teeth. Quickly lubing himself with saliva, he guided his hard cock to Blair's entrance, and pushed gently. Blair groaned above him. Jim stopped the motion. "Did I hurt you?" 

"No...yes...a little, god, don't stop, man...keep going!" Blair moaned. 

Jim smiled a bit, and pushed further in, feeling himself moving past the tight ring of muscle at the entrance. Oh, Jesus...Blair was so hot...so tight...he wasn't going to last long... He sank himself slowly into Blair's body, feeling the blood pounding through his partner's veins, the increased heat and temperature of his body, the heightened heart-rate...all communicated through this most intimate of contact. Blair's body surrounded him, moist and hot, closing on him. Jim held himself motionless for a long moment, just enjoying the contact, then pulled back to move inside Blair. 

They rocked together slowly for a moment, establishing a rhythm, then gaining momentum. Blair thrust his body back against Jim's, groaning beneath him. Jim could hear himself sliding in and out of Blair, the sounds of flesh on flesh, and the auditory stimulus was almost as great as the tactile. He thrust harder into Blair, then stopped to push the younger man's legs up a little further, so he could pump even faster. Blair's breathing was coming in harsh, fast pants now, and he was stroking his own erection in time with Jim's thrusts. Jim wrapped one hand around Blair, over his hand, and stroked with him. His lover's breathing increased in speed, and Jim could feel the fluids moving beneath his hand as body temperature suddenly jumped. Blair groaned as he came, warm sticky fluid spurting onto both of them. Jim gasped at the sensation as Blair's body tightened around him, sphincter muscles clenching from his orgasm, forcing Jim's. With a loud groan, Jim thrust deep into Blair and came inside his lover. 

They lay together afterward, sweaty bodies still joined for a time, caressing each other gently, and exchanging soft kisses. Jim drew a heart on Blair's chest with his finger, then said softly, "I'm in love with you, Chief." He held his breath for a minute, wondering what Blair's response would be, and nearly sobbed with joy when the quiet answer came back, 

"I love you, Jim." It was a voice filled with wonder and happiness...   
  


* * *

  


Oh, God. The memory had slammed into him, giving him no warning. Jim sat on the couch, clutching Blair's shirt to him, aching for him, physically and emotionally. Not only were they friends and partners, they were lovers. Or they had been, until his accident. Until something had blocked all his memories of Blair, of what he meant to him. No wonder Blair's presence had unsettled him so...his conscious mind was telling him one thing, and his unconscious mind was telling him something else. God, would Blair understand? Forgive him? Still want him? He'd never be able to live with himself if he'd driven Blair away... 

And now Simon's cryptic comment yesterday made sense. 

Jim jumped off the couch, looking around wildly. Shoes...he needed shoes, and his keys...and what time was it? 5:31am. Well, so what if it was early. He needed to see Blair, to talk to him...hold him...kiss him... Try and clear things up with him. Jim pulled his shoes on quickly, unmindful of the fact that he wasn't wearing any socks. He grabbed his keys from the basket, and headed out the door, slamming it behind him.   
  


* * *

  


Blair rolled over and snuggled deeper into his pillow. He shivered slightly as the cool air drifted through the broken window. Burrowing deeper under his blanket, he tried to make himself more comfortable on the deep orange shag carpet. 

The anthropologist was just drifting off to sleep when a knock was heard at the door. Blair didn't make a move to get up. He was so tired. Working on his thesis until the early morning hours, Blair had finally pushed it aside for some well deserved rest. 

The knocking continued. This time a bit more incessantly. Blair groaned and rolled over again, landing on a sharpened pencil. He let out a yelp of pain. 

"Blair?! Are you all right? Open this damn door!" 

The young man jerked to his feet and nearly tripped over his laptop that was lying near his "bed". What was Jim doing here? And at this hour? 

"Blair, I swear if you don't open this door now, I'm going to break it down!" The knocking became a banging. 

Blair picked up his little timepiece and squinted at the numbers. 'It is definitely too early for this,' he thought, glancing out the broken window. The sun was just beginning to rise. The anthropologist turned back to the door, wondering why it hadn't broken yet. Jim was doing his best to push his way through it. 'What could he possibly want?' Blair thought as he headed toward the door. He couldn't afford to get kicked out of this place. It had taken him days to find an affordable apartment. 

Then it hit him. Maybe Jim had had a problem with his senses. 

Blair yanked open the door to see a very angry Jim Ellison standing in a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt. Blair glanced down at Jim's feet and noticed that the older man was wearing sneakers but no socks. 

"Jim?" Blair was concerned. "Are you okay? Did something happen? Is there a problem with your senses?" He could have gone on and on but stopped when Jim stomped his way into the tiny apartment. 

Hands on hips, the sentinel turned, looking around the apartment. He'd been in a conciliatory mood on the way over here, but one good look at the neighborhood had kicked in his 'Blessed Protector' mode--and wondering if he even had that right anymore made him angrier still. "I can't believe you're living here, Sandburg. What were you thinking? There's a crack house on the corner for God's sake and we had a report of a drive by shooting last month!" 

Blair rolled his eyes. "It was what I could afford." 

Jim glared at him. "Is that why you have no furniture and are sleeping on the floor?" Jim gestured to the pile of blankets in the corner. 

Blair nodded. "Jim, you still haven't told me what you're doing here so early in the morning. I was just getting to sleep, man." 

Jim's eyes narrowed as he looked closely at the younger man. He noticed the pallor of his face and the circles under his eyes. Jim took a step toward him. "You haven't been sleeping well, either. Have you?" 

"Jim!" Blair practically shouted. He didn't know where this conversation was going, but he was getting tired of it. "Will you lay off, already? Man, you are getting on my nerves with this parental attitude of yours. I know you didn't come all the way over here to yell at me about my living arrangements!" 

Jim's lips tightened. "No, I didn't. But while I'm here, I might as well do it. Damn it, Sandburg, it's cold in here. Is that why you haven't been sleeping? Too cold? Hell, I'm surprised you don't have a pneumonia." 

Blair heaved a sigh. Jim was like a dog with a bone. He wasn't going to let this go. "The heater broke down yesterday--I couldn't get the manager up here until tomorrow, and the window is broken. So, yes, it is a bit cool in here." 

"A bit?" 

Blair didn't let the detective continue. "Jim, what's the reason you came over? Is there a problem?" 

"You bet there's a problem." Jim grabbed Blair's arm and propelled him toward the door. His flashback could wait until he got Blair back to the loft. 

Blair stopped short and yanked away from Jim, a look of anger on his face. "Man, what is up with you?!" 

Jim gestured around the room. "You are *not* staying here. Grab some things. We're going back to the loft. I'll tell you why I came over later." 

Blair stared at him, dumbfounded. "I'm not going to the loft, Jim. This is my place now. Granted, it's only temporary, but you can't just storm in here and start pushing me around." The young man didn't know why he was being so stubborn. He wanted to go back to the loft. It was his home. But until he had his Jim back, he was going to stay right where he was. 

"Damn straight it's only temporary, Chief. You're coming home and you're coming home now!" Jim started for the pile of clothes that Blair had dumped next to the closet. He hadn't gotten around to hanging everything up yet. 

"Just a damned minute, Jim. Where do you get off telling--" Blair stopped and stared at Jim who had turned to look at him. Blair swallowed. 

"What is it?" Jim looked puzzled. 

Blair spoke, tentatively. "You called me 'Chief', Jim." 

Jim looked confused. "So? Isn't that what I usually call you?" 

Blair nodded. There was a tremulous quality to his voice when he spoke again. "You haven't called me Chief since you hit your head." 

Jim's eyes widened. "I haven't? That's right. I haven't." The reason for his early, unannounced visit slammed into him, and Jim nearly winced at the thought of the pain Blair had been living with. Pain that he had caused. "Blair, we really need to talk. I just don't want you to stay here another minute. Let's go home. Please." 

Blair's voice was full of wonder. "You said it again." 

"Huh, said what again." 

Blair spoke. "You said, 'let's go home'. As in our home." 

"It is our home. *Our* home. That's what I want to talk to you about, Chief." 

Blair gazed at Jim. "You remember, don't you?" He gave a short laugh that grated on Jim's nerves like nails on a chalkboard. 

Jim paced into the tiny room, frustration and longing welling up inside him. "I remember--everything." 

"Everything?" Blair looked at him, eyes narrowed. 

"Everything. You, me...us. I remember meeting you, and saving your life...all the good times we've shared... Me loving you." Jim continued, "I--it came back to me this morning." 

Blair crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm happy for you, Jim." 

Jim stared at him, his heart nearly dropping to his shoes. "Is that all you're going to say?" 

Blair shrugged. "What do you want me to say?" 

This was not going the way he'd imagined. "I just want things to return to normal, Blair." 

Blair laughed again and there was no humor in it. "Normal, Jim? Define normal." 

Jim eyed the defensive stance and realized how much this situation had hurt Blair. "Okay. Normal means working together at the station, helping me with my senses." Jim paused and moved closer to Blair. He whispered, "Sharing my life and sharing my bed." 

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Remember that, do you?" Deep in his heart, he wanted to scream for joy, but he held himself in check. 

"Blair," Jim reached out and caressed the younger man's cheek. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I love you." 

Blair sighed and rubbed his face against Jim's palm before pulling away. "Are you sure about that, Jim?" 

Jim let out a gasp. "Of course I'm sure, Chief. How can you say that?" 

Blair laughed again. Jim was beginning to hate that sound. "How can I say that?" Blair's voice rose in anger and pain. "*You* remembered everything and everyone but me, Jim. *You* told me that you had remembered all the important stuff. Yet, you forgot about *me*. Supposedly the one you love." 

"Blair," Jim's cry came out a strangled whisper. 

Blair continued as if Jim hadn't spoken. "Did you ever stop to consider that maybe your subconscious was trying to tell you something? Maybe you only think you love me." He turned away, trying to keep his tears from spilling over. 

Jim's hands came to rest on his shoulders and the detective turned him around. "Chief, I do love you. You're my heart and soul. I couldn't understand the dead emptiness that has been with me since the accident, until this morning. You were missing." The sentinel tentatively brushed his lips across Blair's. Jim's hands moved to cup Blair's face as his lips again sought for his source of life. 

Blair moaned and opened his mouth to allow Jim's questing tongue entrance. He reached up with his hands to grasp at Jim's shoulders. It had been too long. God, how he had been waiting for this moment. He pulled breathlessly away from Jim and stumbled back. The weeks of hurt and uncertainty were not easy to forget. The image of Jim wiping savagely at his mouth as if he'd been tainted reminded him of his weeks of non-existence. 

Jim was reaching for him again. 

"No," Blair pushed Jim's hands away. "I know it's not your fault that you lost your memory of me; I'm sorry if it sounded like I was blaming you. I know you didn't do it deliberately. But I don't want your pity." 

Jim stared at Blair, hurt and disbelief warring on his face. "You think I want to kiss you, love you out of pity for what you went through these last few weeks?!" 

At Blair's nod, Jim grabbed him none-to-gently and hauled the younger man against his chest. Trapped in Jim's embrace, Blair looked up just as the older man's lips came crashing down upon his own. Jim plunged his tongue into Blair's wet mouth and claimed what was his. He poured love, commitment and understanding down the younger man's throat as his mouth and tongue continued their onslaught. 

Jim nipped gently at Blair's lower lip before pulling away. He kept his arms firmly fastened around his partner and gazed down into Blair's luminous eyes. 

Blair gently shrugged Jim's arms off him, and smiled in spite of himself. He sat down on the tangled pile of blankets, and gestured Jim down next to him. "You'll pardon the skepticism," he began lightly, "but you'll understand why it's hard to take that statement at face value, right? Um...what's my full name?" He smiled to himself at the memory of telling Jim how he'd arrived at that name... 

"Blair Ethan Sandburg." 

"Right." Blair's eyes widened. It wasn't something he shared with many people...and as far as he knew, no one else in the department knew what it was. "Um...what's my birthday?" Again, not something everyone would know correctly--he changed the date on all paperwork he filled out, trying to make himself older. 

Jim shivered slightly, and wrapped his arms around himself. "April 24, 1970." 

"Right again." Blair closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think of something that there wasn't a chance of anyone else knowing. He opened his eyes, and gazed into Jim's, smokey-blue meeting the clear blue-gray straight on. "The first time we made love," he asked softly. 

Jim closed his eyes, a wave of pain, longing and desire mixing within him. "The evening after we wrapped up the Dellas case. March 18th, 1997." He opened his eyes to find those same smokey-blues regarding him steadily. "I love you, Blair." 

Blair's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, God, Jim...I thought I'd lost you forever...Oh, I love you...God, I've missed you..." 

Jim reached out to him and drew him into his arms. "I'm so sorry, Blair... So sorry. I never meant to hurt you by loving you...I love you, Blair Sandburg. With every fibre of my being, with all of my soul. You belong by my side forever and after. Do you understand? Oh, God, Chief..." Jim held Blair against him while they cried together; healing, cleansing tears falling and mingling. 

Blair could feel Jim's love surrounding him and was ashamed of his doubts. He raised his head to look at Jim. "I'm sorry I doubted you, Jim," he said in a whisper. "I love you so very much and I didn't want to lose you a second time." 

"I won't lie to you, Chief. There are some things that are still sketchy and you're going to have to help me to remember," Jim replied. 

Blair snuggled closer to Jim. 

"Don't worry, Chief. We'll have plenty of time to get reacquainted, so to speak." 

Blair laughed and hugged Jim. "I've missed you so much, Jim." 

The detective hugged Blair back, happy the ugly, bitter laugh that Blair had been using earlier was gone. 

"Jim?" Blair asked, tentatively. 

"Yeah, Chief?" Jim caressed Blair's back in a soothing motion. 

"Are-are you sure you love--don't want to back out of this?" 

Jim's hand stilled. "Blair, I love you and I want to be with you for the rest of my life." He paused. "Are you having second thoughts?" 

"No." Blair clutched at him fiercely. "I just wanted you to be sure." 

"I'm sure, Chief. I'm sure." Jim murmured into Blair's hair. 

They sat locked in a tight embrace until Jim felt Blair shiver. 

"Aw, shit, Blair." Jim pulled away and glanced around. "I can't believe you moved here." 

"Jim," an exasperated note leaked into Blair's voice. "Do we have to argue about this again?" 

"No, Chief. I'll table the issue for now." 

Blair rolled his eyes. As far as he was concerned, there was no issue. On the other hand, what dragged Jim over here so early in the morning was. "Hey, Jim, you never did tell me what this whole early morning visit was about." 

"I remembered, Chief, and I wanted to see you." 

Blair let out a breath. Jim could be so dense sometimes. "I *know* you remembered. What I'm asking is *what* helped you to remember?" 

Jim smiled. He untangled himself from Blair and rose to his feet. "Come on, Chief. I don't want to stay here another minute. Let's go home. I'll explain on the way. We can pick up your things later." 

Blair nodded, a smile threatening to split his face.   
  


* * *

  


Jim didn't let go of Blair for the entire trip back to the loft. Although they couldn't maintain full body contact because of seat-belts, Jim kept hold of Blair's hand, making sure their fingers were entwined together. 

"You were gonna tell me your trigger, man," Blair asked after a few minutes of contented silence. 

"Yeah...I found one of your shirts at the bottom of my closet this morning. That blue and white plaid one?" 

Blair frowned for a moment, then grinned in delight. "That's where it was! I thought I cleared everything out that night...knew I was forgetting something." 

"'That night'?" 

"The night before you came home from the hospital. I knew there was no way you could deal with us being lovers, if you could barely deal with us being friends and roommates. I cleaned up the loft, and moved all my stuff back into the spare room. But the whole time, man, I kept on thinkin' there was something I was missing..." 

"Do you suppose you left it there on purpose, subconsciously?" 

"Maybe." Blair shifted slightly so he could face Jim better. "I think this whole thing--your memory loss--was subconscious." 

"What d'you mean?" Jim tightened his hold on Blair's hand. "You're not going to start with that 'maybe you really don't love me' again, are you?" 

"No. We've covered that. I know you love me... But think about it, Jim. How were you raised? I doubt it was a real 'pro-gay' household, was it? Most homes in the '60s and '70s weren't." 

"We aren't gay." Jim's mouth compressed into a hard, tight line. 

"See what I mean, man? Get a clue, Jim--who do you think you're in love with, hmm?" 

"I'm in love with *you*, Chief." 

"Yeah, and I'm a guy. By definition, that makes us--you--gay." 

"By definition, maybe. But just because I love you doesn't mean I'd love another man." 

"I know that, Jim," Blair responded carefully, trying to be patient. "I'm just saying that your subconscious was probably reacting to the perception. The way we'd be perceived. You love me...and I happen to be a guy. Cool, we can deal with that, right? But the rest of the world sees two men--and it's a homosexual relationship. Do you see where I'm going with this?" 

Jim nodded. He was beginning to. "So you're saying I blocked my memories, not because I didn't love you, but because part of me was having trouble with what that love would--or did--mean?" 

Blair smiled. "That's pretty much it in a nutshell, yeah." 

Jim pulled the Explorer into the parking garage, and guided the vehicle into his space. He put it in park, and turned to face Blair. "Well, the rest of the world can take a flying leap. My brain is just going to have to deal with this, because I love you...and having nearly lost you once, it won't happen again." Jim raised both hands to cup Blair's face and draw it towards him. He lowered his mouth to Blair's, and gently kissed him; a soft, searching kiss that tasted and explored. Blair was trembling beneath his hands when he pulled away. 

"I missed you--missed that--so much, Jim." 

"I did too--even if I didn't know it at the time." Jim released Blair. "Let's go upstairs, Chief. We need a real welcome home celebration, I think." 

Blair looked at the barely controlled fire burning in Jim's eyes, and shivered. It suddenly seemed like a long way to go, to get upstairs. 

The minute the door closed behind them, Jim pinned Blair against the door, and kissed him, tongue thrusting deep into the eager mouth. Blair returned the kiss with all the pent-up passion and heat he had, mouth opening under Jim's to give him the most access possible. He shuddered as Jim ran his tongue around his mouth, touching all points within. It stroked across the roof of his mouth, then downward, teasing his own tongue before retreating. Blair followed into Jim's mouth, and the other man sucked on him before breaking the kiss enough to nibble along Blair's jawbone, trailing up to his ear. Blair turned his head slightly, allowing Jim to nip and bite, rather than just nibble. He moaned low when Jim bit down on the side of his neck, then sucked hard at the spot. 

"You're gonna...leave a mark..." he panted out, as Jim moved to the next point along the throbbing flesh. 

"That's the idea, Chief," Jim growled before biting again. "I want to mark you as mine." He licked at the red spot, soothing away some of the sting, and Blair whimpered. 

"You're killing me, Jim," he shuddered again as ripples of pleasure radiated through his body. "Oh, man, don't stop...Oh!" Blair gasped in surprise as Jim began suckling on his ear lobe, tongue running through the small hoops he wore there. "Oh, yeah...oh, Jim..." 

Jim raised his head long enough to gaze into Blair's eyes. They were hot with passion, glazed over. A mirror of his own, he imagined. He reclaimed Blair's mouth, holding his head steady with a handful of hair. Blair nipped at his lips, then moved his own mouth away to lick at Jim's chin, before nipping there. Jim shifted his body to hold Blair still against him, and groaned as their hard cocks came into contact with each other. Even through layers of cloth the touch was electrifying. "I think we need to take this party upstairs," Jim ground out hoarsely. "Don't you?" 

"Huh? Oh, yeah...Wait a minute..." Blair wobbled for a minute when Jim released him, then dashed into 'his' room. He returned a moment later with a small tube clutched in his hand. Jim raised an eyebrow, and Blair grinned. "I cleaned out *everything*, man. There's nothin' left in your night- table...and we might need it." 

"Might? Chief, I think you're underestimating me." Jim headed for the stairs, steering the younger man in front of him that way. 

The trip up the stairs took several long minutes as they stopped frequently for kisses and caresses. By the time they reached the landing, both men were dressed only in their pants--worn denim and sweat material doing nothing to hide the hard erections. Jim pushed his sweats down off his hips, then reached to unbutton Blair's jeans. "I want you, baby," he moaned against Blair's mouth, as the younger man stroked him. "I want to feel myself inside you...feel you inside me...I want us to be joined as one." He undid the last button and pushed the jeans down Blair's legs. They tumbled onto the bed together, hands grasping frantically at each other, bodies rubbing wherever skin touched. 

Blair rolled Jim onto his back, and began an assault on his mouth equal to the one downstairs, earlier. Jim moaned Blair's name over and over as the younger man licked his way down Jim's throat, stopping to suck on his adam's apple, before continuing down to Jim's nipples. He licked at one flat nipple, then blew on it, and watched it harden into a small, tight bud. Jim groaned, his body shuddering in delight. Blair repeated the gesture on the other nipple, and Jim writhed beneath him. Blair alternated between the two then, licking, sucking and teasing with fingers. He groaned when he felt Jim's hand snake under him to tease at his testicles. "Two can play... at the teasing game, Chief," Jim panted as Blair shifted lower. Blair nodded and continued his own version. 

Jim drew his breath in sharply when Blair encircled the tip of his cock with his tongue, continuing down to lick at the swollen shaft. "Oh God, Chief...suck me...take me in your mouth...Blair, please..." Jim felt like all vestiges of control were slipping from his grasp. He needed to feel Blair's mouth...wanted Blair's body...had to have something. Blair groaned against Jim's skin when he felt a finger probing at him, seeking entrance to his body. He shifted slightly, moving onto his knees to allow Jim better access. Jim pulled his hand back, and fumbled on the bed next to him, then returned his finger, cool and slick now with lubricant. Blair waited until he felt the finger just sliding into him before plunging his mouth down on Jim's hard, aching cock, deep throating him. 

Jim yelled and arched his body into Blair's mouth, at the same time impaling the younger man on his finger. He quickly worked a second one in, moving them in and out in a fucking motion. Blair released Jim's cock and smiled at the groan of protest his lover made. "I want you inside me, hotshot. Not your fingers. Fuck me, Jim. Love me until I scream for you." The quiet words, whispered into Jim's ear, almost made him lose control. He sat up and turned Blair over onto his stomach. 

"Hands and knees, baby," he muttered as he reached for the lube again. Blair pushed himself up, arching against Jim as he felt the older man smoothing the lube onto his anus. The warmth of Jim's hand was removed, then replaced by a greater heat. Blair pushed back against Jim's cock, and took it into himself in one fluid movement. He gasped at the sensation--it'd been a while, and it hurt a bit. Jim held himself still for a minute, giving Blair time to adjust. Then he pulled his lover up full onto his knees, and drew him back against him. Slowly they began moving together, while Jim caressed Blair's chest with his fingertips. Blair stroked his own cock gently, feeling the pressure building. He rocked back against Jim, enjoying the slow love-making, but wanting--no, *needing*--more. 

"Faster, Jim...I want you hard and fast..." He leaned into Jim's caresses, needing to feel him--needing to be taken. 

"Okay...hang on, baby..." Jim withdrew himself from Blair, and helped his lover turn over. Blair pulled his legs up, and Jim put them over his shoulders. He applied some more lube and slid quickly into Blair's body, sheathing himself to the hilt. Blair groaned, echoing Jim's noises. "How's that, Chief...better?" He grunted slightly as he began thrusting hard and fast into Blair, panting as the heat built up in him. 

"Oh, yeah...that's it...give it to me, Jim...make me yours..." 

"You'll always be mine...I love you..." Jim braced Blair's legs, and increased his thrusts. He could feel Blair clenching the muscles of his ass around him, and he was going to come soon. He leaned down to kiss Blair, savagely mimicking his body's movements with his tongue. Blair pumped his cock in his own hand, thrusting against it in time with Jim's. He was close...it wasn't going to take much... 

Jim bit his neck, and Blair exploded. He saw stars as he came, shooting hot pulses of semen over his hand and stomach. Jim groaned as Blair's hot body tightened convulsively around him, drawing him in further. He thrust over and over, losing himself in Blair, in the sensation, gasping as he felt orgasm approaching. He came in long spurts, filling Blair with his offering. 

They lay together afterward, soothing each other with soft words. Blair stroked Jim's forehead, murmuring gentle words; Jim smoothed a hand over Blair's hair, continuing a litany of "I love you Blair," over and over. When Jim had softened completely inside him, Blair shifted totally onto his side and curled into Jim's chest, molding himself to the larger man. He felt a sense of loss as Jim slipped from his body, and knew it was echoed when Jim tightened his hold on him. The last thing either man was aware of for a while was the exquisite sensation of being able to hold each other once again, sated bodies attesting to their love for one another.   
  


* * *

  


Jim woke when the mattress next to him shifted. He stretched and yawned, and sat up with a start as he realized how bright it was outside. A quick glance at the clock showed it to be 1:40pm. "Oh, no..." he groaned. Shit, he was supposed to be in to work today... 

"It's okay, Jim--I just talked to Simon a bit ago. He said to tell you to enjoy the day." Blair ran a calming hand down Jim's chest, then leaned in for a brief kiss. 

"Are you a mind reader, Chief?" Jim quirked an eyebrow at his lover, amused. "And when--and why--did you talk to Simon?" 

"No, but I can fake reading yours pretty well, I think." Blair actually looked smug for a minute, then grinned. "I woke up a while ago, and figured I better call him before he called out the troops looking for you. That would've been like *so* embarrassing..." 

"What'd you tell Simon?" 

"Jim, Simon knows about us. He told me so while you were in the hospital." 

Jim pondered this for a minute. At the time he'd just accepted the strange comment, 'I hope you know what you're doing'; now he understood the emotions behind it. He smiled. His captain was a smart man. "Well...I'm glad. Saves me telling him." 

Blair's mouth dropped open. "You were gonna tell him? When?" 

"When I felt like the time was right." Jim shook his head. "For all I know now, Chief, I may have put it off forever. But the intention was there." 

Blair shook his head. "Man, every time I think you can't surprise me, you throw me off guard again. I'm gonna have to keep my eye on you." 

"I'm counting on it, Chief." Jim stole a quick kiss from Blair, then stood up. "Shall we go enjoy the rest of our day?" He turned to look at Blair--harnessed energy waiting to be unleashed on something...or someone. 

"Yeah! What do you want to do?" Blair paced the floor waiting for Jim to pull some shorts on. 

"I don't know. You?" 

"Let's eat, and talk about it then." Jim made an agreeing noise, and the younger man headed for the stairs. He paused at the first one, then turned, making sure Jim was behind him. "I am like so glad you're back to being you, Jim. I didn't know who you were...and that scared me. I still loved you because you're you, but I didn't like the other Jim very much." 

Jim regarded his partner closely. "I don't think I liked that other Jim very much either. Anyone who'd hurt you... Well, I'm glad you're who you are too, Chief." 

They turned and continued down the stairs to eat, and enjoy the rest of their day.   
  


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